


Everything's Blurry But You

by sincerelyjaime



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Domestic Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Kozume Kenma is Bad at Feelings, M/M, Minor Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou, Minor Haiba Lev/Yaku Morisuke, Miscommunication, Musician Kuroo Tetsurou, Mutual Pining, Requited Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:28:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 24,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28183173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sincerelyjaime/pseuds/sincerelyjaime
Summary: Since they were kids, Kenma and Kuroo have been best friends. They have spent their whole lives by each other’s side, for better or for worse, but somewhere along the way something had changed.Somewhere between all of the days spent hanging out, the handful of fights mixed in with the thousands of laughs, Kenma had messed up. The lines of friendship became blurred, and no matter what he did, he couldn’t stop it.Kuroo didn’t return his feelings...couldn’t. And Kenma was fine with that. Until one drunken night where everything came to a head.
Relationships: Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou
Comments: 38
Kudos: 242
Collections: Kuroken Christmas Exchange 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Bakkiki](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bakkiki/gifts).



> Hello! This is my fic for the 2020 Kuroken Christmas Exchange!
> 
> I hope Kiki is happy with what I was able to create <3

A quiet laugh brushed a warm puff of air against Kenma’s ear. One of Kuroo’s arms was a warm weight around his torso, the other arm bent along the arm of the couch, creating the perfect pillow for Kenma’s head. Behind him, Kuroo’s body shook with his mirth, jostling Kenma enough to distract him from his game. He had spent the last couple minutes maneuvering his villager to the right position, but now he had to watch as the black shadow of the fish he had been trying to catch on Animal Crossing disappeared into the water. 

Damn Kuroo.

He sighed, walking down the beach in search of another shadow in the water, but it happened  _ again. _

Kenma kicked his heel back lazily, landing a hit on Kuroo’s shin. “You’re being annoying.”

The arm around his waist tightened, pulling him closer; the warm line of Kuroo’s chest now fully against his back was almost enough of a balm for his annoyance. Fingers splayed against his stomach distractedly as Kuroo continued to hum in amusement.

“ _ Kuro _ .”

“Sorry, sorry. Just,” the arm along the armrest slid down to wrap around Kenma’s neck, Kuroo’s phone presented to him so that he could see what was so funny, “look at Yakkun and Lev.” 

A cold breeze came through the cracked window on the other side of the room, but Kenma barely noticed, not with the way every part of his body was connected to the human furnace that was Kuroo Tetsurou. It was distracting right now, though, more so than usual. He tried to focus on what Kuroo was trying to show him, but it was hard to focus when he could feel the  _ tap-tap-tap  _ of long fingers tickling against his stomach, two of them slipping beneath the loose fabric of his hoodie where it had bunched up weird.

All of that not helped by the way that his heartbeat was picking up pace, cheeks warming the longer this all went on. He wanted to run away to his office, maybe stream or do the editing he was  _ actually _ supposed to be doing right now, and burrow back even closer into the feeling in equal parts.

Kenma had been feeling like that a lot recently, but maybe that was just par for the course when you were a little in love with your stupid best friend.

He was quick to lock that thought away, buried under so many layers of denial and self-preservation that it would hopefully never make it to the surface again. There was no real way for him to know when his feelings changed, or what the catalyst was, but in recent months it was getting harder and harder for him to ignore.

Kenma was exhausted, but…

“Kenma?” Kuroo’s fingers tickled at him more deliberately, surprising Kenma so much that a high-pitched squeak left his lips before he could stop it. “You’re not paying attention!” As Kuroo’s fingers dug deeper into his sides, pulling more embarrassing sounds from him (sounds that Kenma  _ would _ be threatening Kuroo for silence about), Kenma squirmed around on the couch, making useless attempts to wiggle free. 

After a few minutes of scuffling around on the couch, Kenma was able to successfully jam his elbow back into Kuroo’s chest, giving himself enough of a chance to escape his grasp. He rolled over top of Kuroo, who was now splayed on his back across the length of the couch. Kenma puffed from exertion, shoulders rising and falling as he tried to catch his breath. He stared down at Kuroo, knees straddling either side of his hips. There was a cramp in his belly and he glared at his friend as he held Kuroo’s hands down, one tucked tight to his side by a knee while the other was stretched up over his head. The phone lay on the floor to the side of the couch, and when Kenma spared it a glance he saw a collage of photos of Yaku and Lev doing  _ the _ cheesiest and gross couple poses--no doubt all Lev’s idea.

Yaku looked miserable.

And also  _ disgustingly _ in love.

Kenma really wished he didn’t know exactly what that was like.

Looking back to Kuroo, he noticed right away  _ just _ how close their position put them. Their faces were mere inches away from each other, and he could smell the cinnamon from the candy Kuroo had been snacking on all night every time he breathed from his partially parted lips. Kuroo’s cheeks were stained the faintest pink and his eyes traced Kenma’s face. 

Neither of them moved, the silence stretching between them becoming charged with... _ something _ , and Kenma wasn’t sure of what to do. He should probably move, get them out of whatever weird thing that was currently happening.

He settled on watching the pink on his cheeks darken to a pretty scarlet, contrasted with the brush of his dark eyelashes.

Golden eyes were still jumping around Kenma’s face, and when they stayed a little too long near the bottom half of his face, Kenma resisted the urge to wipe at his mouth. What was  _ up _ with Kuroo? Was there something weird on his face? 

“Do you wanna go on a date?” The words were spoken quietly, almost distractedly, and a little breathless.

Kenma’s eyes widened at those words.  _ What? _ He tried to school his features into something unaffected, but his mind was racing.  _ There’s no way that Kuroo meant-- _

“In general!” Kuroo rushed to clarify. Kenma’s grip on his limbs must have loosened in his surprise, because before he could even blink, Kuroo was sitting up and sliding Kenma off of him. “I, uh, meant. Do you ever think about dating anyone?”

It took Kenma a minute to reply; he reached for his game and booted it up again, the screen showing two of his villagers chasing each other around and around near one of his beaches. 

_ You, _ his brain supplied. 

Kuroo’s phone was still lit up somehow, the faces of Yaku and Lev almost taunting him, poking him in a spot that felt like a deep bruise--buried deep, invisible to the eye and buried under layers of protection, but when bumped, it hurt like a bitch. He barely wanted to admit it was sore in the first place, so addressing it was way out of the question. Kenma leaned forward and pushed the phone under the couch and out of his line of sight. 

At some point, Kuroo had stood up from the couch and walked towards the collection of movies they had been building since they moved in together when Kenma started college two years ago. It was full of their favorites from the years--many of them the movies they would spend their childhood and teenage days watching on repeat. 

They didn’t see a lot of use, truthfully, but whenever either of them was having a bad day, or simply needed a distraction, they would pick something from their wall of movies and spend hours vegging out on the couch together. 

Kuroo was shifting from foot to foot, eyes staying locked on the shelves in front of him without a glance. Which was...odd. The fingers on his left hand tapped an erratic pattern against the side of his leg.

“Ah,” Kenma bit his lip, tracing Kuroo’s form with his eyes and smiling when Kuroo finally turned his head and met his gaze. “Dating’s a weird game. I’ll pass,” he lied. He pulled his knees up to his chest, noticing, for the first time, the cat patch that Kuroo had joked about sewing onto his sweats the other day after Kenma accidentally stuck his leg through it while pulling them on sleepily and almost leaving the apartment for his early class. 

Plucking one of the movies from its spot on the self, Kuroo busied himself with setting up the DVD player. He walked back towards Kenma and placed his hands on his knees. “Mmm. Well, there’s no rush anyway. And besides,” he winked, “you’ll always have me.”

Kenma was lucky that feigning indifference to Kuroo's embarrassing comments had been something he's had years to perfect. He could hide his red cheeks behind the curtain of his hair, cover up the way he wanted to lean in and kiss that stupid smirk off of Kuroo's face with a well-placed jab. Actually…

"Oh yeah, Kuro?" His eyes locked on Kuroo, brow raised while he tried to put on his most innocent looking face. "Are you going to start taking me on dates now?"

Kuroo spluttered, standing up so fast he nearly fell backwards as his calves collided with the table behind him. "What? Uh--" He raked his fingers through his hair nervously and bit his lip. "I know I'm irresistible, Kenma," Kuroo said, mock-confidently, but there was no hiding the way his voice cracked. "But it'll be hard to wheedle more free meals from me when I already buy all of your food."

"Speaking of!" He turned on his heel, stumbling over his feet in his haste. "Do you want something to drink? I'm really thirsty. Yeah...I'll, uh. Be right back!"

"Dr. Pepper!" Kenma called out to him. He shook his head, falling to the side with a quiet  _ oof _ . Groaning into the pillow, Kenma pulled the hood of his sweater over his head until it covered his face.

Something cold landed on his chest with a thump. Kenma pulled his hood down and stared at the water bottle Kuroo had just thrown at him. “This isn’t Dr. Pepper, Kuro.” He sent a half-hearted glare Kuroo’s way, lips tipping down into a not-pout. 

“You need to drink water too, you know,” Kuroo chided, totally undeterred by Kenma’s glare after being on the receiving end of it for the better part of their lives. How unfortunate.

Kenma kicked his leg at Kuroo, but missed. “I drink water.”

“When? Last week?” Hands on his hips, Kuroo looked down at Kenma disapprovingly. He nodded towards the bottle. “Water first. Then you can have your damn soda.”

“You’re hilarious. Really.” There was a bottle cap poking out of the pocket of Kuroo’s joggers, and if he could just… “Kuro,” Kenma put on his best fake pout, paired with big puppy-dog eyes that Kuroo could never say no to. “Please?”

He could see Kuroo’s confidence waver and…”Kenma, stop it. I’m--”

Kenma took advantage of Kuroo’s weak resolve, kicking out a foot to catch the man standing over him behind the knees. It caused him to come tumbling forward, landing on Kenma with a surprised noise. “What the hell, Kenma?”

And Kenma realized he had made a mistake then because Kuroo’s hair was in his face and mouth, his warm weight was pressing him deeper into the cushions, and it was too much. Kuroo wiggled around on top of him, only making matters worse. 

With one hand, Kenma reached towards the bottle in Kuroo’s pocket, pulling on it as soon as his fingers were able to grip it. He shoved Kuroo off of him, not even feeling bad when he rolled off of the couch with a groan. “Why do you hate me?” Kenma heard from beneath him.

The bottle crackled as Kenma popped the lid; he took a sip of it, catching his breath and wishing for his heart to calm down. Leaning forward to peek over the edge of the couch, Kenma snorted at the pitiful sight of Kuroo splayed across the space between the couch and the kotatsu.  _ Living with you might be easier if I actually  _ hated _ you. _ “Quit being dramatic, you baby. Get up here and watch the movie with me.”

“Only if you promise to stop  _ kicking me _ . Maybe you should have taken up soccer instead,” Kuroo complained, but plopped down next to Kenma anyway.

Another cold breeze cut through the warmth that had settled around them during their wrestling, causing Kenma to shiver. Seemingly without any thought, Kuroo’s arm was wrapped around him, pulling him tight against his side.

The movie played on, and out of the corner of his eye, Kenma could see Kuroo mouthing along to all of the dialogue, smiling to himself at the stupid jokes the main character’s best friend cracked. Kenma couldn’t get something off of his mind though, and before he could stop the words from slipping out of his mouth, he broke the quiet atmosphere that had settled around them with a question. 

“Hey, Kuro? What ever happened with you and Susumu?” 

Kuroo tensed beside him. “Oh, uh. Didn’t I tell you?”

“Not really, no.” Kenma wedged his arm behind Kuroo’s back and squeezed him around the middle. “You were just around a lot more again.”

* * *

The day that Kuroo had come home from class proclaiming that he might have met his soulmate happened to be the same day that Kenma had finally let himself admit that maybe, sometimes, he wanted to kiss Kuroo, and that the way he felt about his best friend couldn’t be considered strictly platonic.

Susumu had been...pretty perfect for Kuroo, even though it had pained him to admit it at the time. Tall and athletic, majoring in marketing just like him; she had an active social life, pulling him in easily to her circle of friends and keeping him occupied several nights of the week. 

From the time that Kenma had moved into Kuroo’s apartment after graduation, they had set aside a night each week where they could both ignore all of their responsibilities and laze around in one of their rooms (usually Kenma’s because he hated having to hook up his consoles in Kuroo’s room), and sometimes it was the only thing that got Kenma through the exhausting week that his packed courseload made for. 

The first time that Kuroo missed their weekly hangout, Kenma didn’t think much of it. He just invited Hinata over and they played games while Hinata rambled on excitedly about everything he did that week. The second time it happened, he still hadn't thought too much of it, but used the time to edit some videos he'd been considering uploading to YouTube. 

By the fourth and fifth times, Kenma didn't even bother hanging out in the living room (which he had taken to doing after the second time) in case Kuroo showed up after all. Instead, he put headphones on and played games on his phone, locked in his room, pretending to be asleep each time Kuroo knocked on his door.

They never really talked about it, but Kenma wasn't sure if it was because they were avoiding the awkward conversation, or if it was because those nights were the only time that their schedules crossed for more than a handful of minutes at a time.

It was fine though.

That went on for a few months, but then one afternoon, Kuroo knocked on the frame of Kenma's cracked door and stuck his head inside the room hesitantly. "Kenma, hey! You wanna, uh...hear this new song I've been working on?"

“Kuro? What are you doing home?” Kenma stared at Kuroo, head tilted to the side, his headphones pulled down around his neck. “Shouldn’t you be with,” he dropped his gaze back to what he had been working on on his laptop, and tried to keep his voice from sounding petulant, “Susumu?” 

He scratched his head, a sheepish expressing adorning his face. "Oh. Yeah, not tonight." Kenma hated the way that he could notice how hesitant Kuroo was to step any further into his room when a few weeks ago he wouldn’t have thought twice about barging in and sprawling on top of Kenma. “Is it cool if I come in?”

Sick of watching Kuroo shift from foot to foot, he rolled his eyes. “Since when has my answer to that ever mattered to you, you ass?” 

When Kuroo sat at the edge of the bed, back too ram-rod straight, he bounced his knees erratically. Every so often his knee would jostle the guitar that was resting between his splayed legs, causing an unpleasant hum to sound. It looked like he was trying to take up as little space as possible, which was a ridiculous feat for someone as  _ big _ as he was. 

Kenma sighed, shutting his laptop, and leaned around Kuroo, trying his best to not leave the warmth of his blankets; he placed his hand on Kuroo’s knee, halting its movements. “Stop.” He debated with himself for a minute before moving out of his cocoon of blankets, settling beside Kuroo and leaning against his side with a huff. “You’re being  _ weird _ .”

Kuroo didn't say anything right away. His stare was focused on a stray slipper sticking out from under Kenma’s bed; though his knees were no longer bouncing, his fingers tapped along the frets of his guitar. 

"You gonna play me the song or not?" Kenma whispered.

"The song. Right." Kuroo picked up his guitar and turned so that one leg was lying bent on the mattress, the other foot steadying him on the floor. Kenma scooched back until his back hit the wall. He kicked his legs up so that they stretched across Kuroo's leg, pulling the blanket into his lap and up to his chin. 

The soft strum of guitar strings rang out, Kuroo ducking his head to stare at his fingers as they plucked at the notes. He lifted his gaze to catch Kenma’s, offering him a shy smile before opening his mouth to sing. The sweet sound of Kuroo’s singing voice never failed to soothe something in Kenma; it didn’t matter what he was doing--cooking dinner, doing homework, cleaning,  _ sitting around staring at the wall out of boredom _ \-- Kuroo was always humming or singing along to something in his head. There had even been a number of times over the years where the other man had sung him to sleep on nights where it just wouldn’t come. 

Somehow it had just hit him that the house had been so  _ quiet _ with Kuroo gone. Granted, they still had barely seen each other during the week, but somehow the snatches of songs he’d hear coming from the shower or Kuroo’s bedroom while he popped in between classes still made a difference to his day.

_ This _ . This was much better. 

As Kuroo’s fingers thrummed at the strings, his voice sang out tenderly, speaking about home and a breath-stopping love.

> _There’s so much that I have told you_ _  
> _ _But it’s all in my head_ _  
> _ _Ask me anything you want to_ _  
> _ _‘Cause the answer is yes_ _  
> _ _I’ll spend my whole life_ _  
> _ _Just being caught up in your eyes_ _  
> _ _Don’t you know you stop the room_ _  
> _ _And all that I can see is you_ _  
> _ _I’m standing where the lightning strikes_

He still wasn’t looking away from Kenma, prompting Kenma to tilt his head down, hair covering his eyes and cheeks. Kenma wondered how long he had been working on this song, wondering if Susumu had anything to do with the way that Kuroo’s cheeks flushed as he sang, eyes soft and sincere, as if he were remembering something that filled him with warmth. 

There was a nervous energy too, thrumming around them.  _ That _ wasn’t something Kenma was used to seeing in his best friend, especially not around him. He batted his foot against Kuroo’s leg, jostling the other and making his fingers falter on the strings. “Stop that.”

Kuroo narrowed his eyes. “Kenmaaa,” he whined. “I’ve been practicing that for days and you had to go and mess me up.” He was oddly breathless when he leaned in close, biting at his lip. “So...what did you think?”

_ I wish that song were meant for me _ .

“I think you’re a sap.” Kenma picked at a loose thread coming off of the sleeve of his sweater. “I’m sure Susumu will love it. She’s just as sappy as you are.” 

"Always so cryptic, Kenma." He stood up, placing his guitar against the wall by Kenma’s door before walking back to the bed and sitting down. With his back against the wall, mirroring Kenma's position, Kuroo bounced his feet where they hung over the edge of the bed. "So it was good?"

"Yes, Tetsurou. Just like every other song you write.” Kenma eyed the soft looking sweats that Kuroo was wearing, and the old t-shirt with their high school’s name written across the chest in faded letters and smirked playfully despite the uncomfortable feeling in his chest. “Maybe when you play it for Susumu try to dress up a little more though.” 

There was no escaping the long reach of Kuroo’s arms, or the way he ripped the blankets off of Kenma with a triumphant holler. “Aha! I  _ knew _ it!” Kuroo stuck his finger through the giant hole in the knee of Kenma’s sweatpants. “You’re gonna try to lecture me on style when you’re rocking holes in your sweats?”

Kuroo's finger was cold from playing his guitar, and Kenma shivered at the feeling of the cold digit on his skin. "Kuro. Give me my blanket back. It's  _ cold _ ."

Instead of giving him the blanket, Kuroo crawled over top of Kenma and collapsed on him, shoulder nearly knocking him in the face. Kenma could feel his chest expand and deflate slowly as Kuroo took a deep breath. "That better?" he joked.

It  _ was _ , but Kenma wasn't going to give him the satisfaction. "I think I liked it better when you were gone all the time. Go hang out with Sus--"

"The song isn't for Susumu," Kuroo cut him off quietly, sliding off of Kenma and resting on his side. 

_ Oh. _

Kenma tipped his head to the side, hair falling over his face as he chanced a glance at his friend. Kuroo reached up to his face, tucking his hair behind his ear, index finger stroking against his cheek accidentally. "I...I broke up with her today, actually.

As if just realizing that his hand was still touching Kenma's face and hair, Kuroo rolled away and onto his back. He couldn't hide the flush that spread from his cheeks all the way down to his neck, exposed by the stretched-out collar. 

"It’s fine though!" he continued, likely at the shocked expression Kenma could tell he was making. 

"Right," Kenma said, eyes searching Kuroo's profile. "You're sure you're okay?" He knew he shouldn't be feeling the relief that was building inside of him. It wasn't normal to feel so  _ selfishly happy _ at the news of your best friend's break-up. But, then again,  _ Kuroo _ didn't seem too particularly heartbroken. 

Which was...odd, considering how much of a hopeless romantic he was.

"Hey, Kuro. Let's watch a movie. It can even be one of your annoying romances."

Kuroo sat up, legs falling to the floor at the foot of the bed. "Ah, that's okay, Kenma. I think that zombie movie you were excited for is on Netflix now." He walked towards the door. "I'll get snacks.  _ And _ Dr. Pepper, don't worry."

"Wow, you really  _ do _ love me," Kenma intoned, pulling up the blanket back around himself and sighing at the warmth.

Kuroo mumbled something like  _ yeah, definitely  _ something _ like that _ , but before Kenma could comment, Kuroo was shouting at Kenma to pick something out as he walked down the hall towards their kitchen.

* * *

Kenma was too worn out to fight it anymore. As the movie played on their TV, his eyes fluttered until he couldn’t keep them open anymore, lulled by the familiarity of Kuroo and a movie they had both seen a million times over. 

When he woke up a few hours later, Kuroo was behind him on the couch, snoring quietly and pulling him tightly to his chest. Kenma should probably wake him up so they could move to their own beds. He considered the thought for a few moments before snuggling back against his friend…


	2. Chapter 2

The air inside of the bar was stuffy, and Kenma could feel sweat beading at his hairline. He puffed a breath of air out of his mouth, the hair hanging in front of his face moving with the action.  _ Ugh. Gross. _ It was too hot to be wearing as many layers as he was; the fabric of his shirt was sticking to his back uncomfortably, but he didn’t want to take his flannel off, dreading the feeling of the sticky bar top underneath his arms.

He considered dropping his head down into his arms for half a second, but decided against it--that would only put his  _ face _ closer to the gross counter. Akaashi appeared in front of him,carefully sliding a tall glass towards him. It was tall and brightly colored, a large orange slice sitting prettily on the rim with a green umbrella wedged into the ice. 

He eyed it skeptically, raising his eyebrow. “What’s this?”

“A drink,” Akaashi said, cocking his hip against the counter.

“I didn’t order anything.” At least anything other than the glass of water that he had sipped at earlier before the heat became unbearable and he’d downed the rest of the glass’s contents. 

“Yeah, someone accosted me earlier.” Nodding his head towards the stage situated behind them, Akaashi continued, “Take a wild guess who  _ that _ might have been.”

A few cat-calls and cheers erupted from the crowd behind Kenma, and he turned around in his stool. On stage, Kuroo was freestyling some rap verse (a new endeavor of his and one that he managed to make equally endearing and  _ embarrassing _ ), and the crowd was clearly loving it. “He is a nuisance.”

That didn’t stop Kenma from pulling the straw into his mouth and taking a large gulp of the cold drink. It was strong and  _ fruity _ and sweet, just the way he liked his drinks, because of course Kuroo would know exactly what to get him. He didn’t understand the appeal of downing glass after glass of alcohol that tasted like shit just because of some misplaced bid for some kind of manliness. Or whatever people aimed to achieve when they tortured themselves that way.

“How long has he been working on  _ that _ particular song?” Akaashi chuckled.

“Ah, well.” It was at that moment that Kuroo’s eyes found him in the crowd. With the bright lights centered on him, it was easy to see the way that his face lit up, a smile he tried holding back twisting up his lips. His words faltered for half a second, losing track of the beat that Bokuto was laying out for him. 

Kenma offered a small wave, smirking as he shook his head. The crowd seemed nonplussed, either too drunk to notice the slip up, or simply enjoying the way that Bokuto was now flouncing around the stage trying to cover for his partner. He bumped Kuroo’s shoulder, beatboxing more emphatically into the mic, which seemed to do the trick. 

Kuroo’s already pink cheeks deepened in color, and Kenma had to wonder how strong Akaashi had made his drink, because the way his brain immediately jumped to  _ ‘he may be an idiot but he’s so cute’ _ wasn’t anything he would think sober. He had worked  _ very _ hard to make sure those thoughts were packed away, never to see the light of day. “...not long enough, clearly,” Kenma finished.

“Bokuto has been practicing constantly for the last week, but he refused to tell me what it was for."

"Was it everything you thought it might be?" Kenma deadpanned, swivelling back around in his seat to face Akaashi. The other simply laughed and shook his head, moving down to the other, busier, side of the bar where Tanaka seemed to be struggling with the growing crowd.

Some time passed, a second and third drink sliding into his view without comment, but he didn't say anything about it, merely taking them into his hands and sipping until they were empty. He didn't usually like to drink so much, but the crowd around them was testing his limits with every arm that brushed his back or shoulder that knocked him forward into the bar.

Just as he finished a particularly difficult level on his phone, arms wrapped around his waist. "Kenma!" Kuroo shouted, his chin digging painfully into Kenma's shoulder. "Hi.” His breath smelled slightly of whatever beer he had been drinking before going on stage, and Kenma’s nose wrinkled. “You’re here!”

“Kuro, I come to every show.” The alcohol he drank earlier caught up to him all at once when he attempted to wiggle out of Kuroo’s hold and his vision swam. It was no use anyway as Kuroo simply tightened his arms, pulling him closer against his chest, his hair tickling Kenma’s cheek. It was too hot to be this close; Kuroo was sweaty, the air just as hot and stuffy as it was earlier, but a small part of his was whispering traitorously to him:  _ you know you love this. You know you don’t want it to stop.  _ “How much have you had to drink tonight?” he asked instead. 

Just as his vision was settling, he was being spun around in his seat. “Yeah, but you were  _ late _ . I didn’t see you when I got up there.” There was a stray fleck of glitter on Kuroo’s cheeks and it glinted in the light every time he moved; Kenma couldn’t take his eyes off of it, and was considering reaching out for it when Kuroo continued, “Oh! Is this what I think it is? We match!”

Kuroo plucked at the fabric of the flannel Kenma was wearing. He stepped away, arms crossing his chest. “Have I told you how cute you look tonight?” he slurred out. “Because you’re really,  _ really _ cute, Kenma.”

“Wha?” Kenma croaked. His heart was making a valiant effort to beat out of his chest, and all he could seem to do was stare wide-eyed at Kuroo. It seemed like the other’s brain had caught up with what he had just said, and Kuroo’s mouth opened and shut a couple times. “Now I  _ know _ you’re drunk. You’re such a  _ sap _ .” Kenma ducked his head and turned back around to face the bar. 

“I just meant the  _ flannel! _ The  _ flannel _ is really cute. You should thank whoever picked it out.” Kuroo flopped down into the empty seat beside him, legs splayed and bumping into Kenma’s. He flagged down Akaashi, who came prepared with a couple of shots that Kuroo knocked back, one after the other. “Hey.”

"I think I'll pass. Whoever picked this out seems to have forgotten how  _ hot _ it gets at bars. Sweating is so gross." Kenma side-eyed Kuroo and shook his head. "The guy who bought me drinks earlier is kind of okay though I guess."

That got Kuroo's attention, his eyes jumping between Kenma and the crowd in what he probably thought was an inconspicuous way. He bit his lip, worrying it between his teeth. "Someone bought you drinks? Was he," it wasn't super obvious, but there was a slight slur to Kuroo's words, and they were pitched oddly, "was he cuuuuuute?" 

_ Yes _ , supplied Kenma's brain, unprompted.

Kuroo nearly fell backwards off of the stool as he swiveled his head around the bar, scoping it out for... _ something _ . Kenma wasn't sure what. The only thing he could make out was Bokuto’s large form standing a few feet away talking to a couple ladies, gesturing back towards them at the bar.  _ Great. _ "Where's he at, Kenma? I should meet him."

"You're an idiot." Kenma grabbed the sleeve of Kuroo's shirt and tugged it until he was facing him. Flicking his nose, Kenma rolled his eyes and snorted. " _ You _ bought me the drinks."

"Oh," Kuroo breathed, his breath fanning along Kenma’s face. They were...really close.

In an attempt to disrupt the odd air that had settled around them, Kenma squeezed Kuroo's cheeks with one hand until his lips were pursed. "C'mon, Kuro. Let's go...you need to eat something, clearly."

"That's my line!" he replied, the words sounding funny through the grip still holding his face. Kuroo made to stand up, but right as he did, Bokuto came barreling into him, wrapping an arm around his shoulder and jostling them. 

Bokuto’s head swivelled from side to side, his normal spikes drooping from the heat of the room and the sweat that had accumulated during his earlier performance.”Where’s Kaashi?” he asked excitedly. As if just remembering something, he pulled his arm from Kuroo. Bokuto gripped his biceps tightly and leaned in close, Kenma watching as Kuroo’s eyes tried their hardest to focus on the man in front of him. “Don’t forget about the party we’re throwing tonight. Shrimpy is in town and we’re all gonna be at my place.”

He let go of Kuroo and rounded on Kenma. “ _ You too _ , _ Kenma _ .” 

Before he could open his mouth and spew some excuse to get him out of making an appearance, the alcohol clouding his head making his thoughts more jumbled than usual, Bokuto spoke again. “I already told Shouyou that you would be there. So if you don’t show up he’s gonna be really sad, Kenma.” He pouted and Kenma shoved his hand in his face, pushing Kuroo away with a disgusted sound.

“...Fine.”

Moments later, Akaashi appeared from the crowd with a grimace on his face, coming to stand next to Bokuto. “You’re drunk,” he said, eyeing everyone with disdain. 

Kenma turned towards the door, searching for the best route of escape. There were a  _ ton _ of people here now, and he didn’t really want to get their sweat or alcohol spilled on him as he brushed past them. Kuroo’s voice interrupted his thoughts. “Akaashi-kun! Did you know that a guy bought Kenma drinks tonight?”

Akaashi cocked his hip and huffed a quiet laugh. “Mmm. Yeah, I think I remember that actually.”

“Can you believe it?” Kenma was rocked back on his heels as Kuroo pulled him back against his chest, nuzzling his cheek into Kenma’s hair. “Thought he had a chance with our Kenma.”

“Oh yeah. Seemed like a real idiot,” Akaashi deadpanned.

The sudden motion sent his world tilting, head spinning slightly; he closed his eyes to it, starting to get the inkling that he was more far gone than he had realized earlier. It felt like he was underwater almost, the noise of the bar around them seeming muffled, but the sensation of Kuroo’s nose dragging along the top of his head felt laser-focused and the weight of his hands was heavy on his hips. Each point of his fingers felt like a pinprick of heat, felt easily through the layers of his clothing somehow. He swayed side to side, just a little, Kuroo moving with him without complaint and humming a happy sound that was sending slow shivers down to Kenma’s toes.

It was nice, being like this. As much as Kenma wanted to go home, maybe they could just stay right here. There wouldn’t be any need to walk through all of those people, and it was quiet, his body likely hidden from any prying eyes by Kuroo’s giant form. Maybe. He didn’t really feel like opening his eyes to find out.

“Kenma,” Kuroo said, voice raspy from his earlier singing, “let’s go dance. It’ll be fun.” 

The alcohol in his system was lowering his guard, but that was enough to have his eyes snapping open, the sounds of the crowded bar around them flooding back to him nearly instantaneously. Pinching Kuroo’s arms, Kenma wormed his way out of Kuroo’s octopus grip. “I may be  _ tipsy, _ but I’m not  _ stupid _ , Kuro.” 

The first thing he saw was Akaashi standing in front him still, a knowing smirk on his face and a raised brow. He had his own drunken idiot draped across his form. Bokuto was practically vibrating though, eyes wide and excited as he bounced on his toes. “Kaashi! Let’s go! It’s party time.” He emphasized his point by swinging his arm wildly up into the air with a hoot.

“But Kenma!” Kuroo’s fingers reached out for him, but Kenma dodged out of the way, only knocking into Akaashi and Bokuto a little. Finding a clear path to the exit, Kenma began moving towards it, his steps more uncoordinated than usual. Behind him, Kuroo continued, “Not even one song?” His bottom lip jutted out in a petulant pout, too childish for someone his age.

They were only a few feet away from the door; just a few more steps and Kenma would be free from any attempts at dancing. Deciding to fight fire with fire, Kenma put on his best doe-eyes, the ones he knew Kuroo was defenseless against, always wilting at the sight and giving in to Kenma’s whims. “I’m hungry. Let’s go get food instead.” When it seemed like Kuroo was ready to put up a fight, Kenma added, “I’ll even get a vegetable. Promise.”

Kuroo’s cheeks were flushed and his hair was beginning to droop in front of his face, but his eyes were like twin pools of warm-honey as they considered Kenma seriously. A lopsided grin broke across his lips, and he ruffled Kenma’s hair, giggling at the grimace it produced. “Fine, but I’m holding you to that.”

“Don’t forget! My place tonight!” Bokuto could be heard from across the room. Kenma groaned, but he already knew by that childish digs Kuroo was throwing over his shoulder that they would be making a stop by the party no matter how much he didn’t want to. 

They had to make a quick pit stop backstage so that Kuroo could collect his guitar and jacket, but then they were on their way.

* * *

As they exited the cloying heat of the building, a biting breeze brushed past their faces; the temperature had dropped following the sun’s descent in the sky, and Kenma really wished he had worn a thicker jacket. The streets were quiet, only an occasional passerby crossed their paths. Every couple of minutes a car would pass, the tires rolling across the wet pavement, music from their radio creeping up on them and fading out as they drove by. 

Kenma took advantage of Kuroo raising his arm to point out something shining brightly in the sky while they walked to cling to step closer to his side; it was much warmer here and he burrowed as close as he possibly could, soaking up any of the heat that was radiating off of Kuroo despite the chilly air.

Their steps were clumsy as they mosied on down the street. Kuroo was making an effort to shorten his stride and keep pace with Kenma’s shorter legs. “Cold?” Kuroo’s hands rubbed up and down along Kenma’s arms in an attempt to warm the stiff muscles. “You should have worn something thicker,” he chided. 

Rather than answering, Kenma simply clung tighter with a non-committal hum. His arm slipped up the back of Kuroo’s jacket and he sighed at the warmth. Shivers still wracked him every time the wind blew, and after the third time, Kuroo stopped them in their tracks and tugged his jacket off, depositing it across Kenma’s shoulders. 

Kenma glanced up at Kuroo, mouth popped open in a small ‘o’, but he was staring forward at something in the distance with a calculating look. “Kuro,” he tried to slip the heavy fabric of the jacket off of his frame, but Kuroo’s hand was in the way, holding it in place as it wrapped around his back, “You’re going to freeze. Stop it.”

Impervious to Kenma’s attempts to wriggle free, Kuroo started moving forward, pulling Kenma along with him. “Hey, you think that one woman who sells that yakitori Bokuto likes is out tonight?” He spoke as if he hadn’t heard Kenma, but Kenma knew he  _ had _ and was just being annoying.

Once it was obvious that Kuroo wasn’t going to take his jacket back, Kenma elbowed him with a put-out grumble, but gave in and let himself get tugged along more easily. “She has that really good mochi.”

“Vegetables, Kenma.”

The closer they got to the city center, the more lively the streets became. There were brightly lit shopfronts, tables and stalls full of goods as people milled about. Kuroo did a good job navigating them through the throngs of people. He always did. Kenma usually stared at his phone or game when they were faced with this many people at once, but he didn’t have that luxury tonight, his phone shoved in his pocket. He’d have to expose his hands to the cold to reach for it and he wasn’t ready for that yet.

The buzz of the alcohol had simmered, but it was still enough that he didn’t exactly  _ mind _ the crowd. Not with Kuroo’s jacket, and the man himself, shielding him like they were. (Maybe he was still a little more drunk than he thought, the sappy sentiment not something he allowed himself to think so freely.) 

Since he couldn’t look at his phone, and looking at the people rushing past with loud bursts of laughter and scattered conversations was still out of the question, Kenma chose to look at Kuroo instead. Though his gait was a little off-kilter, it looked like his own buzz had faded as well; he passed by people with a charming smile and low  _ excuse me _ ’s and  _ pardon us _ ’s. 

It wasn’t long before they were standing in front of the stall they had set out for, the woman behind the counter smiling at them gently. “Hello, enjoying your night tonight?” She was eyeing the guitar strapped to Kuroo’s back with curiosity, but didn’t say anything else.

“Of course,” Kuroo said, a polite laugh following his words. “Never a dull moment with this guy. Keeps me on my toes, you know?” 

He rattled off their order, one stick each of pork and beef, as well as another stick of vegetables, sending a narrow-eyed look Kenma’s way when he ordered the last item. Kenma rolled his eyes, pinching Kuroo’s waist through his shirt and smirking at the quiet yelp he let out. Before the woman could total them out, Kenma noticed a display of mochi off to the side. They were all different colors, and each had a small name card in front of them; there were a few apple pie mochi left and the sound of them had his mouth watering.

“Can I get those apple pie mochis, please?” Kenma requested quietly, prompting Kuroo to stop the story he was recounting to the woman mid-sentence. 

Her gaze flitted between them, a knowing sort of look on her face, the corners of her eyes soft as she began to package up a few of the tan-colored sweets. “Ah, young love,” the woman teased with a wink. “I remember having to pester my dear Kiyoshi constantly. He wouldn’t have recognized a balanced diet if it bit him in the behind.”

“Oh! We…” Kuroo’s stiffened, Kenma could feel the way that his back became a rigid line, “aren’t dating,” he finished, an almost forlorn tone to his voice. Kenma attributed it to the alcohol, or maybe it reminded him of Susumu and their recent break-up. Whatever it was, it didn’t last long, quickly swept away by the too-loud laugh that boomed from his mouth.

“This guy? Between you and me?” Kuroo leaned in conspiratorially as he spoke in a stage whisper, “I don’t even know if he likes me most days, but what can I do except hope to win him over with my charms one day?” 

Kenma glared up at Kuroo, but he wasn’t looking back, too busy thumbing through the bills in his wallet. “How much was it again?”

“Oh, I’m sure that’s just not true.”

Kenma didn’t like the way that the woman was looking at him now, a twinkle in her eye as if she could see right through him. He pulled his arm from Kuroo and pulled the jacket tighter around his body in hopes of making up for some of the lost body heat. It didn’t help the odd feeling bubbling in his stomach, and he desperately wanted to step behind Kuroo to hide away, but he couldn’t exactly do that  _ now _ . 

“My apologies,” the woman continued, accepting the money that Kuroo handed her. She handed back his change, passing the yakitori to Kuroo as well as a small baggie of the mochi to Kenma. She waved them on with a wave. “Enjoy your night, you two.” 

They made it a few steps, Kuroo already biting into one of the pork yakitori when her voice cut through to them again. Turning around, they saw her leaning forward over the countertop, taking in the sights of the passing people and bright lights and sounds of the market around them. “There’s something magical in the air tonight, don’t you think? Maybe you boys oughta try capturing it.” 

Kuroo seemed to consider the woman’s words for a second, biting his bottom lip and rolling it between his teeth before nodding. He turned around, hooking his arm around Kenma’s neck, the subtle fresh and clean scent of his cologne wafting into Kenma’s nose when he took a deep breath. “Come on, Kenma. You heard the woman! Time to capture the magic of the night.” 

His arm, the one that wasn’t holding Kenma close to his side, flung out to the side with fervor and even from here, even in the darkness of the light, only lit up by the glowing attractions around them, Kenma could see the playful sparkle in his eye.

It was cheesy, and Kenma would never admit it out loud, and  _ especially _ not to Kuroo, but as they trekked through the people, sights, and sounds--even stopping at one of the stalls that had a Tangy keychain that Kuroo immediately bought and attached to Kenma’s keyring-- he couldn’t help but feel like they already had.

* * *

They were on their way to Bokuto and Akaashi’s place, and Kenma had somehow found himself on Kuroo’s back. The weight of the guitar was unusual across his shoulders, but it was a small price to pay to not have to carry himself the rest of the walk to their destination. He hadn’t thought his half-joking complaints of tired legs would have gotten him anything other than an eyeroll and a reminder about how important exercise was.

But then he was being handed Kuroo’s guitar, and the man himself had squatted down in front of him with a command to  _ hop on, Kenma _ . 

The feeling of being lifted up so high was jarring and Kenma was quickly reminded just how  _ tall _ Kuroo was, but he got over it quickly; Kuroo’s arms were bent behind him, holding Kenma up by his thighs, and his long fingers curled around the width of them easily.  _ Why did everything about Kuroo have to be so  _ big?

At some point, Kuroo must have realized that Kenma had not taken a single bite of the yakitori even though he had made a promise to eat actual food. But the mochi was so much better, the sweetness of the apple on his tongue paired with the earthy spices had him closing his eyes in delight. He continued to chew delicately on the sweet dessert; Kuroo sighed but didn’t protest, continuing his path towards the party.

When he finished his last bite of mochi, Kenma stuffed the empty paper in Kuroo’s jacket pocket; he wrapped his arms tighter around Kuroo’s neck and tucked his chin against Kuroo’s shoulder with a satisfied hum. “Hey, Kuroo?” Kenma breathed out, not wanting to break the quiet calm of the night around them, far away from the hustle and bustle of downtown once again. Up ahead, not too far in the distance, Bokuto and Akaashi’s house could be seen, the only house with lights still shining through windows. He didn’t have a plan for what he was going to say next, his lips reflexively forming the words, Kuroo’s name slipping out without a second thought.

Kuroo was humming a song, a familiar melody to Kenma’s ears--probably a tune that Kuroo had been strumming mindlessly on his guitar at home, a new song he was writing or learning to play. It made Kenma miss the comfort of their apartment. They could keep capturing the magic of the night at home, couldn’t they? The thought of seeing everyone and being in a room full of people felt exhausting, and his brain was already bouncing around with ideas on how to interact as little as possible without bringing attention to himself. A large part of him almost wished that they hadn’t agreed to come out tonight. 

But Kuroo did a lot of things for Kenma’s sake. Made a lot of accommodations for him when he didn’t need to. Even now, carrying him on his back because he made some comment about not wanting to walk...

Kenma was hit with the sudden desire to tell Kuroo how much he meant to him.

“Yeah?” Kuroo adjusted his hold on Kenma, shifting him higher where he had started to slip over the course of their walk.

“Can you keep a secret?”

Walking in slight zigzags along the pavement, Kuroo huffed a laugh and pinched Kenma’s thigh. “Oh? Is my Kenma keeping secrets from me now? I thought we were best friends--”

An annoyed cry left Kenma’s lips and he shoved one of his hands in Kuroo’s face, completely covering his eyes and blocking his vision. 

“--hey!”

“Shut up. This is important and I’m only gonna say it  _ once. _ ”

Kuroo had stopped walking with Kenma’s hands over his eyes, and he waited patiently for Kenma to say what he needed to. Because of course he was, it was Kuroo after all. It felt like there was something racing around in his stomach, words he couldn’t quite comprehend bubbling up his throat, but nothing was coming out yet. “You okay?”

Kenma dropped his hands from Kuroo’s face, wrapping them around his neck again instead. He turned his face into the side of Kuroo’s head and whispered, warm breath puffing against the other’s ear. “I think I like someone.”

It wasn’t what he meant to say, not at all, not  _ really. _ All of his thoughts and feelings about Kuroo had gotten so jumbled up lately--his kindness and caring nature, his ability to  _ annoy  _ and  _ exasperate  _ and  _ fluster _ Kenma was as on point as ever, but so was his ability to understand Kenma in all of his strengths and weaknesses and accept his as he was and...And he was maybe freaking out a little at the depth, the vastness of these  _ feelings. _

He was too drunk for this. 

Burying his face in Kuroo’s shoulder, Kenma groaned, embarrassed; it raised in pitch, a small cry of surprise as he was almost dropped from his seat on Kuroo’s back. At the last second, Kuroo caught him, but he still hadn’t said anything. 

“You what?” Kuroo finally asked. There was an incredulous tone to his voice and it made something prickle in Kenma. “You’ve...never mentioned anything about any crushes.” His fingers clenched tightly around Kenma’s thighs, digging into the muscle and causing him to wince a little. 

They still weren’t moving, and Kenma unhooked his legs from around Kuroo’s waist, sliding down his back carefully. “Are you--”

“But hey!” Kuroo lifted his thumb to his mouth and chewed at his nail, feet stumbling to motion again. “They must be special, huh?” He elbowed at Kenma and smiled, but it was off. Kenma knew Kuroo’s smiles, had been on the receiving end of a million of them over their lifetime. This wasn’t his  _ normal _ grin. The curve of his lips more a straight line, the crinkles at his eyes non-existent. 

“--okay? You’re being weird.” Kenma stepped in front of him, fingers lifting to poke at the corners of Kuroo’s mouth with a thoughtful expression. It was when he pinched Kuroo’s cheeks that the other man broke, tense eyes softening and letting out a quiet chuckle. He took Kenma’s hands from his face gently and held them in the space between them.

“Sorry,” he swallowed, “think the drinks from earlier are scrambling my brain.” Kuroo ruffled Kenma’s hair, tucking a strand behind his ear. “Think the solution is more drinks! Let’s go. You can tell me all about your...crush.”

There was definitely something off, but if Kuroo wasn’t going to admit it then Kenma couldn’t do anything except let it go. As much as Kuroo liked to bug  _ him _ about being stubborn and unmoving, he could be just as bad. “Fine. You owe me drinks anyway since you’re making me go through with this. And I’m not telling you about my crush,” he settled on saying. “It’s annoying. That’s all.” 

_ And there’s also the fact that it’s  _ you.

The fact that Kuroo didn’t immediately pester him for more answer was slightly alarming; Kuroo wasn’t known for his ability to let things go, least of all not annoying things like feelings, but he only nodded his nodded his head (something muttered under his breath that Kenma didn’t catch) and tugged Kenma the rest of the way towards the party with quick steps.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the chapter the E rating comes into play !!

Kenma was sitting on the floor, legs tucked under the kotatsu, and sipping on the drink that Bokuto had shoved in his face before they had even been able to step through the door. Hinata was beside him, telling him a story about the time last month when he and Atsumu had nearly set their apartment on fire because they started tossing a ball around, resulting in a rowdy fight and a knocked over candle. 

On his other side was an empty spot that Kuroo had vacated a moment before; Bokuto had made a huge show about pulling him away to go help with grabbing more drinks from the back porch, but the way that their heads were tipped together and the slight slump to Kuroo’s shoulders made Kenma think that there was something else to their escape. 

Kenma just couldn’t figure out  _ what _ .

He downed the rest of his drink in one go to the cheers of the other partygoers (Atsumu and Lev knocking their own drinks back and Atsumu running to grab more). Rocking side to side anxiously, Kenma wished for Kuroo to be back from wherever he had taken off to and sitting in his spot beside him. Kuroo’s presence was a balm to the unruly din of the party around him; despite knowing everyone here, his skin was still crawling from the expectation of social interaction. 

The magic of earlier seemed to be lost on him now, slipped out of his grasp.

Across the kotatsu, Lev and Yaku were sitting shoulder to shoulder, Yaku practically sitting in Lev’s lap. Lev’s long arm was outstretched in front of them as their faces softened, expressions fond and cheeks rosy with the umeshu in their cups. Reminded of the pictures Kuroo had shown him the other day, Kenma thought that it was even  _ worse _ up close and in person. 

The thought of kicking out under the table crossed his mind, an attempt to ruin their picture just to hear Lev’s squawk of indignation, but before he could, Bokutou and Kuroo returned to the room with a flourish.

Kuroo’s posture was still off, but he found Kenma’s gaze right away and started walking over with uneven steps, bumping his hip into one of the end tables as he passed by. He sat down in the free spot beside Kenma and draped his body across his lap. “Kenma! I missed you, you know.” 

Raising one eyebrow, Kenma snorted, reaching out to swipe a messy lock of hair nearly poking Kuroo in the eye away. “You weren’t even gone that long.”

“Yeah, but I thought someone might come and swoop you up while I was gone.” His eyes crossed as he tried to track Kenma’s hand in front of his face, tongue sticking out of his mouth in concentration before pulling it back in, lips relaxing into a dopey smile. Kenma’s breath hitched, heart skipping in his chest. “What would I do if  _ that _ had happened? 

Bokuto stood in the middle of the room shaking what looked like a plastic hard hat in his hand. In the other he held two strips of paper and he had a dangerous look on his face. Dangerous in the sense that Kenma never looked forward to a thing that came out of his mouth when he looked like  _ that _ , eyes shining with alcohol and mischief, hand on his cocked hip. “Guys! It’s time to get this party  _ started _ ! 7 Minutes in Heaven!”

“Do we look like we’re 15, Bokuto?” Daichi called disapprovingly from his spot in an armchair off to the side a little ways away. Suga was perched on the arm of the chair and leaned in close, a big smile on his face that made Kenma’s cheeks hurt in sympathy.

“I don’t know, Sawamura,” Suga wiggled his eyebrows and Kenma rolled his eyes. These people were so sickeningly into each other. “It could be pretty fun.” 

Kenma looked away when Suga teetered on the arm of the chair into Daichi’s face and trailed a finger down the buttons of his shirt.  _ Eugh. _

It wasn’t much better when he looked down at his lap though, Kuroo somehow having maneuvered himself to lie with his head nestled on his thigh, his own legs splayed out lazily and taking up way more room than one person had any right to. Socked feet were jiggling in some unheard rhythm, the brightly colored birds on them becoming a rainbow blur to Kenma’s eyes.

Kuroo was mouthing something that Kenma couldn’t make out while he played with the strings of the hoodie that Akaashi had offered Kenma when he mentioned being cold earlier.  _ How unfortunate that you are simultaneously adorable  _ and  _ such a huge, embarrassing dork. _

“KUROO AND KENMA!” Bokuto boomed. “You two are the first lucky winners! Get your asses up and into that closet.”

“What?” Kenma deadpanned. “I’m not doing that.  _ We’re _ not doing that.”

Catcalls broke out around them, Lev and Suga the loudest, as Bokuto stomped towards them and lifted Kuroo up into a sitting position by his shirt, nearly knocking the underside of Kenma’s chin in the process. “Come on, man!” Bokuto patted Kuroo’s cheek while the other stared at him with wide eyes, head shaking subtly from side to side. “You guys don’t have to kiss if you don’t wanna… _ talking is good too, you know! _ ”

When Kenma chanced a look around him, a pang of something uncomfortable hit his stomach; Atsumu had sauntered over to Hinata now, kneeling behind him with his arms wrapped carelessly around his shoulder as they whispered some secret conversation to each other, broken up by playful jabs and barks of laughter. Across from him, Yaku and Lev were taking more pictures and like  _ seriously, guys?  _ Yaku’s head was resting against Lev’s shoulder, eyes starting to droop but he had a happy, relaxed look on his face which was not something that could be said usually. Especially not around  _ Lev _ .

How has their new relationship changed things so clearly?

Scattered around the rest of the room, some even hanging back out in the hallway, were people Kenma didn’t recognize; many of them were standing too close to be strictly  _ friendly  _ and if the sultry looks on their faces were anything to go by, they didn’t want it to stop there. 

Again:  _ Eugh. _

Turning to face Bokuto again, Kenma was faced with Kuroo and Bokuto in the middle of a heated argument as whispered words were volleyed back and forth between them. They made a hilarious sight, honestly, with the way that they were nose to nose and unsteady on their feet. 

That’s when Akaashi slithered out of nowhere, sliding up to Bokuto’s side with an impish smirk. “When’s our turn, Koutarou?” his fingers danced along the breadth of Bokuto’s shoulders, and Kenma’s nose wrinkled. “I call dibs on being next.”

Kenma stood up and hauled Kuroo back by the collar of his shirt. Kuroo cried out in surprise, but followed with clumsy feet as Kenma guided them around their friends on the floor and out to the hall and up the stairs where he knew a large closet existed. “I changed my mind,” he called out to the room behind him before making his exit.

He was sure that the few people out in the hall were giving him weird looks, at least the ones that bothered to acknowledge the new,  _ loud _ (courtesy of Kuroo) presence. Kuroo sputtered, managing to escape Kenma’s grip on his shirt when they got to the top of the stairs. 

“We don’t have to go in there, Kenma.” Kuroo was glancing around them, eyes landing on the doorway leading out to a balcony at the end of the hall. “Let’s go outside instead!” 

Kenma rolled his eyes. “It’s cold.”

“You can have my jacket again.”

As nice as the alternative sounded, Kenma knew that Bokuto would just force them in here in the end; the resulting headache that Bokuto’s booming voice would cause as he man-handled them into the room himself was just not worth it. The thought of Bokuto recruiting Hinata or Suga to help out with his stupid game flashed to his mind and he cringed, ripping the door open and pulling Kuroo in before he could make another move. "This will be easier."

Kuroo muttered something that sounded suspiciously like  _ speak for yourself _ , but Kenma decided to ignore that because Kuroo was annoying him. He carefully sat down on the floor with his back against the wall while Kuroo sat across from him. 

The space was cramped; it didn't matter that Kuroo was trying his best to take up as little space as possible, his long giraffe legs still sprawled in the tight space and knocked against Kenma's. Sitting on the floor here, Kenma almost felt like the room was swaying and he had to fight to not shift from side to side with it.

A fuzzy feeling crawled along his limbs, and when he opened his eyes and glanced across at Kuroo, he could see his friend was feeling the same way. Maybe even  _ worse _ . But the humming that he was doing sounded nice. Just like everything about Kuroo…( _ when he wasn't being annoying,  _ Kenma’s brain almost forgot to tack on). 

It was dark in the closet, the narrow strip of light at the bottom of the door the only source of illumination. Kenma heard more than saw Kenma reaching up behind him, feeling along the shelf behind his back until his hand hit whatever he had been looking for; between them, Kuroo brandished a small box. “Aha!” he cried as he pulled out a small, battery-operated lantern and turned it on. 

Kenma squinted, letting his eyes adjust to the new light. It wasn’t very bright, the lantern barely the size of a can of soda and emitting a soft, yellow light, but he could see more than the vague outline of Kuroo now. Kuroo was staring at him, a multitude of expressions passing over his face before settling on a sly smirk, head tipping towards his own shoulder. 

“Don’t.” Kenma kicked Kuroo, groaning when all he got in response was a pair of waggling eyebrows. 

“Y’gonna tell me who your crush is?” When Kuroo leaned forward, crawling haphazardly to his knees, he nearly knocked the lantern over, sending it skidding a little way to the left until it hit the wall with a thump and causing more shadows to spread across Kuroo’s face. 

“No.”

Kuroo was really close now; Kenma could feel his warm breath puffing against his checks, jaw,...mouth. His chest was a long line of heat where it pressed up against Kenma’s bent legs and pushed him harder into the wall almost, the cage of his arms on either side of him making him feel trapped and like his skin was crawling.

This close to Kuroo with nowhere to go, it felt like he couldn’t think straight. Or maybe that was the alcohol. It was getting harder and harder to tell.

The tip of Kuroo’s tongue slipped out between his lips, wetting the skin. Kenma leaned imperceptibly closer without his own consent. “Come  _ on _ , Kenma,” Kuroo said, half-whine, half-slurred. “I think as your best friend it’s important for me to know these things. What if they are like...a jerk or something?”

Kenma snorts. "Don't you think I'd know if they are a jerk?"

_ Shut up about the stupid crush, Kuroo, _ he wanted to say, but his mouth wouldn't form the words. Funny how he had to bite his tongue from spitting out something about the way Kuroo’s eyes were crossed was cute, though. 

Except it wasn't funny and Kenma wanted to be sick.

Kuroo lifted his arm, maybe to punch at Kenma's shoulder, but he didn't quite make it. His fist landed at his knee and off-center, causing him to sway in his spot, knees buckling the slightest before he regained his balance. "You're blinded by love."

The last thing Kenma wanted to do right now, or  _ ever _ , was talk about his crush. It would seem that Kuroo was feeling especially determined tonight though, and he was unfazed by Kenma’s usual tactics at avoiding conversations he didn’t want to have. Since his usual avoidance wasn’t working, he’d have to go for something different. 

"Aren't we in here for a reason, Kuro?" Kenma whispered as he leaned forward. Kuroo's mouth dropped open and he made little aborted noises in the back of his throat. "We have a stupid game to play."

"Ah--uh...hm--?"

Kuroo's cheek was soft under his lips and Kenma could feel heat flood them. Or maybe that was just his own face.  _ Why had he done that?  _ Kuroo wasn’t saying anything, breath audibly hitching in his throat. It was as if the air had turned thick like molasses and Kenma had to peel himself away, sitting back against the wall. When he spoke, it was to his lap. “Now no one can say we didn’t play along.” 

His heart was racing in his chest and Kenma really wanted it to stop, but he couldn’t get the feeling of his lips on Kuroo out of his mind. The room was still swaying, only slightly helped with the way Kuroo was caging him in.  _ What would Kuroo’s lips feel like? They are right th-- _

The sound of Kuroo’s deep chuckle caused him to raise his head, eyes snapping to his face immediately. Kuroo coughed when it cracked and he bit his bottom lip, eyes widening slightly. He seemed to recover quick enough though, because then he smirked, throwing one arm up beside Kenma’s head, hand landing against the wall with a loud smack. “You call that a kiss, Kenma?” he teased.

Kenma’s face was on fire and the hair at the back of his neck stood on end as if electrified by the proximity of Kuroo’s hand. He didn’t understand how his mind could be running overtime yet also feel like he was treading through mud. No words were forming, his thoughts completely transfixed on the slight shine of spit on Kuroo’s lips.

There was a loud thump from somewhere outside of the closet, or maybe downstairs, and Kuroo jolted, head dipping even closer. “What? Cat got your tongue?”

Before he knew what he was doing, Kenma was leaning forward, lips catching Kuroo’s in a sloppy kiss. A gasp left Kuroo’s mouth, lips parting even more. Neither of them moved at first, time seeming to slow to a halt with their lips locked. Kuroo pulled away first, but he only put a small distance between them; the sound of their breathing was the only sound to be heard, the air around them electric. “Kenma…” Kuroo said on a sigh, just as much of a question as a statement, somehow.

Kenma couldn’t see much of him here, not in the dark room with their only source of light kicked away, but he could see the gold of Kuroo’s eyes, the hesitant twist of his lips.

He nodded, the pounding of his racing heart drowning out everything that wasn’t Kuroo.

Kuroo’s hand, the one that he had slammed against the wall earlier, fell to grip Kenma’s shoulder before changing trajectory and sliding around the back of his neck. Long fingers twisted into the loose hair there and a shiver rippled down Kenma’s back. This time, when their lips met, they were both ready for it.

Without breaking the kiss, Kenma leaned forward, pushing into Kuroo’s space until the other man got the hint and let him crawl to his knees. It was easier to get his hands around Kuroo’s shoulders this way, now that his own legs weren’t in the way. 

He wasn’t thinking about what it meant to have his fingers digging into the thin material covering his best friend’s shoulders. What it meant that the room was spinning and Kenma now knew what it felt like to have his lips caress Kuroo’s. 

_ Kuroo is a good kisser _ , Kenma noted belatedly, filing the thought away for later inspection. 

His world shifted again as Kuroo fell back on his ass, bringing Kenma with him so that he was sitting in his lap, knees on either side of his waist. It crossed his mind that maybe they were both too drunk for this. 

None of this made sense, but now that Kuroo knew what it felt like to kiss Kuroo, he was finding it hard to stop. The push and pull of their kisses was heady, and when Kuroo’s tongue caressed his own, slipping inside of his mouth to pull a groan from deep in his chest, Kenma felt like he was on fire. 

From his new position, Kenma could feel Kuroo’s erection pushing against his thigh; he shifted experimentally, revelling in the way that Kuroo sighed into his mouth. A broken whimper followed, and Kenma wanted more, the taste of it on his tongue addictive. 

“Tetsurou,” Kenma said, pushing a hand against Kuroo’s face when he tried to chase his lips. “Are you drunk?”

It looked like it took a second for the words to process in Kuroo’s head, something that wasn’t filling Kenma with much hope. This may very well be his only chance at ever getting to touch his friend this way, but no matter how much he  _ wanted _ this, he wasn’t going to take advantage of Kuroo. 

“Yeah,” he said finally, leaning in to steal another kiss from Kenma, which Kenma allowed without complaint.

Kenma took a deep breath, deflating with it. “We should stop.”

Quicker than he thought possible, Kuroo grabbed his chin. His eyes were slightly glazed, but there was a determined look in his eyes. “Do you want to?”

“Do _ you _ ?”

Kuroo shook his head and pulled Kenma’s face towards his, kissing up along his jaw until his lips ghosted the shell of his ear. “Let’s get out of here.” 

The way he nibbled on Kenma’s earlobe had him tipping his head and bearing his neck, eyes closed. “As long as you promise to keep doing that when we get home.”

They stood up awkwardly in the tight space, Kuroo tugging at his shirt to try and hide his obvious arousal before walking out to the crowded room where all of their friends could be heard shouting about something, laughter erupting and flooding up the stairway.

“Aren’t you glad we stopped talking about my crush?” Kenma wasn’t sure what possessed him to bring up his crush now, especially since the stupid  _ crush in question _ was his best friend who he had just spent the last several minutes swapping spit with. If Kuroo knew it was  _ him _ , then there was no way he’d want to keep going. Kind to a fault, Kuroo wouldn’t want Kenma to get the wrong idea. But  _ Kenma _ , drunk off of the alcohol he had tipped back earlier and the feeling of Kuroo underneath his hands, didn’t care.

He wanted whatever he could get, and this one night might be just that.

His face met the back of Kuroo’s form, stock-still in the middle of the hall. 

“Your crush.” Kuroo turned around, considering Kenma’s face and bringing a hand up to pluck at a lock that had fallen loose around his face. He tucked it behind Kenma’s ear and shook his own head. “Right.” 

Opening his mouth as if he wanted to say something else, Kuroo snapped it shut and quirked his lips into a tight smile. Kenma thought he should say something about it; it looked all wrong on Kuroo, but before he could even think about how to form the words he needed to say, Kuroo had turned around again and started pulling them down the stairs. “Kuro--”

Sound erupted in Kenma’s ears when he was pulled into the main room. Everyone was crowded around the couch, staring towards the TV where it seemed like someone had set up karaoke. Suga and Atsumu were belting the lyrics to Feelin’ Myself to the cheers of everyone in the room. 

Akaashi was the first to catch sight of them, eyes lifting casually from the book in his lap (how he was able to tune out the chaos around him was something Kenma might never understand). He raised a brow, no doubt at their ruffled appearance. 

“Hey hey hey!” Kenma cringed as Bokuto noticed them, his voice seeming to boom around the room and calling attention to them while Kenma would have much rather snuck out without notice. “You guys were gone for longer than 7 minutes, you know. Have a nice chat?” He stared past Kenma, eyes focused on Kuroo when he said that, for some reason. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Kenma could see Kuroo making motions with his arms, but they stopped when Kenma glanced back at him. It seemed like Bokuto and Kuroo were in the middle of some silent battle of wills. Looking between them, Kenma decided they had stood there long enough, the party still happening around them as no one else paid any attention to Bokuto’s outburst. 

He hooked his arm around Kuroo’s elbow, pulling him towards the door. “Mm. Yeah, it was great,” he threw over his shoulder. “We’re actually gonna leave now. Bye.”

Kuroo didn’t say anything as Kenma pulled him away from the party and out into the chilly night air. He seemed calmer out here, away from everything else. The walk to the train station took longer than it needed to--both of them stopping frequently to duck behind trees and into alleys that they passed so they could trade heated kisses and rut against each other shamelessly. 

It was only when an old lady caught sight of them and scolded them that they decided to just hurry up and get home.

At one point, Kenma wasn’t sure  _ when _ , they had locked hands, Kuroo’s large palm dwarfing Kenma’s.

They stayed locked the entire way home and Kenma tried not to think too hard about the way it made him feel warm, liquid fire in his veins, and a small,  _ crazy _ part of him half-hoped that they might never make it back to their apartment so he wouldn't have to let go. 

It was when Kuroo absently brought Kenma's hand up to his lips to press a kiss to it as he pointed out a couple of stray cats chasing each other across the street, that he felt a pang in his chest akin to a bullet.

He leaned into though, pressing in closer to Kuroo's side and snuggling under his arm. He placed his own kiss against the thin fabric of his shirt and wondered if Kuroo could feel how heavy his  _ want _ was in that simple act of affection.

A drunken hookup might be all that he gets, and in the time it takes the pair to get home, Kenma tried to convince himself that that's all he really needs.

A small reprieve.

Get it out of his system.

Good as new.

* * *

Kenma’s back hit the wall with a smack as Kuroo’s lips attached to the side of his neck. His hair tickled Kenma’s cheek, but it was easy to ignore when teeth started nibbling at the junction between his neck and shoulder. “Kuro--ahhh,” he ran his hand up Kuroo’s back until it rested along the back of his head, “you’re going to leave a mark if you keep doing that.”

“What?” Kuroo smirked, eyes glinting. “Don’t wanna remember tonight?” 

“I’m  _ afraid _ of all the questions my subscribers are going to have if they see that I have hickies all over my neck because my best friend couldn’t control his mouth like  _ usual _ .”

Kenma thought that Kuroo might keep going, just because he was annoying like that, and he really wouldn’t have minded  _ that _ much, but he relented. “Fine,” he whispered as he leaned in close to Kenma’s face, hands rucking up his shirt as he skated fingers along the sensitive skin of his belly. It sent static skittering along his skin, almost too much to handle. “Kissing your lips is just as good.”

As they kissed, lips meeting in a slow push and pull, Kenma thought about the ball of heat growing in the pit of his stomach, his chest, and how much it resembled the feeling he had when he held Kuroo’s hand earlier. Those were dangerous thoughts, and if he kept dwelling on them, he might be forced to deal with all that they meant. That wasn’t something he was prepared for right now.

Maybe not ever.

Kuroo pulled away from the wall and Kenma wrapped his arms tightly around his neck so he wouldn’t fall; hands held him close, their hips sliding against each other just enough to tease what was to come later. With careful steps backward, lips never leaving each other, Kuroo carried them to the hallway, hesitating.

“My room is fine. Closer,” Kenma panted into Kuroo’s mouth, diving back for more, tongue slipping in to twist against Kuroo’s hotly. He preened at the groan that it pulled from Kuroo and the way his hands tightened against his ass, kneading it between his palms.

The door was cracked, so all Kuroo had to do was kick it open with his toe and carry Kenma through. It was dark, save for the string lights that Kuroo had insisted Kenma hang up along the edges of his ceiling so that he wouldn’t be sitting in the dark all night like a gremlin. There was a quiet humming coming from his computer, but nothing on the screen was lit up. 

He was deposited gently on his bed, back hitting the freshly washed sheets with a soft thump. He lifted his head and stared at Kuroo through his lashes, taking him in. Kuroo stood at the foot of the bed, lip tugged between his teeth, staring right back at Kenma. A contemplative look was etched into his face, the slightest furrow between his eyebrows. 

Kenma wondered if he was considering backing out now.

If he changed his mind and realized that hooking up like this with Kenma was a mistake he wasn’t willing to make.

With his legs splayed, Kenma leaned up onto his elbows, opening his mouth. The question was ready on his tongue when Kuroo dropped to his knees on the mattress, crawling forward and filling the space between Kenma’s legs. He leaned forward, hands sliding from Kenma’s knees up his thighs as the distance between their faces disappeared.

Heat. Kenma felt like a broken record, noticing this singular aspect over and over, the overwhelming feeling on loop in his brain.

Everywhere that Kuroo touched was fire. Every look he sent caused something syrupy and white-hot to flow from the center of his chest down to his toes and back again. A continuous cycle that was slowly driving him insane.

When Kuroo’s lips were a centimeter away from his, he whispered, “Are you sure you want to do this? We can--” 

Just like earlier, Kenma shut him up with a kiss. 

He guided Kuroo’s hands to his pants with a shaky grip. “Yes, Kuro. Please.”

Kuroo nodded, a quiet sound of assent leaving his lips. He unbuttoned Kenma’s pants and tugged them down to his knees before helping him shimmy out of them. Once they were off, they were tossed to the side, landing somewhere out of side behind Kuroo. Kenma was barely undressed, but he felt naked compared to the other man and set out to even the playing field a little. “Take your shirt off,” he complained, hands already worming under the fabric.

“Someone’s eager,” teased Kuroo, but the effect was lost by how breathless he sounded. Regardless, he scrambled to take his shirt off, head getting caught in the collar in the process. Kenma snorted, taking the fabric in his hands and prying it off of him. When Kuroo’s head popped out, his hair was mussed, cheeks glowing a faint red, barely visible in the poorly lit room, and he smiled awkwardly.

“And  _ someone’s  _ a mess. C’mere.” Kenma dragged Kuroo towards him by the back of his neck until their lips met. His fingers smoothed up and down the planes of his back, muscles taut underneath his palms from the way Kuroo was holding himself above him. Embarrassed sputtering soon turned into pleased groans that Kenma devoured easily. 

Kuroo leaned back, pulling Kenma with him to work him out of his shirt as well, leaving him in only his boxers. The slight chill of the room caused small goosebumps to pop up along his limbs; that was all but forgotten when one of Kuroo’s hands snaked between them to reach inside of Kenma’s boxers and wrap around his cock. It was a slow pump of his fist, thumb swiping at the head of his cock with every upstroke. It wasn’t much, but for some reason Kenma couldn’t think past the careful movements. 

“That okay?” 

It was more than okay, honestly. Kenma wasn’t sure when things went from a heated, hurried make out to...this. It felt dangerous, but he couldn’t bring himself to stop it. “Y-yeah.”

Kuroo began kissing a path down Kenma’s body, lips trailing from his mouth, jaw, neck. He moved to his chest, pausing at his pecs to suck one of Kenma’s nipples into his mouth, laving at it with his tongue when Kenma gasped, head thrown back in pleasure. It was almost impossible not to buck up into Kuroo’s grip, but it didn’t make a difference because he didn’t change his pace, keeping the same slow movements that were driving Kenma to his limit.

“Kuro, come on. You don’t have to be so  _ careful _ with me.” He tried emphasizing his point by thrusting up, creating more friction, but Kuroo simply pressed his hips back into the mattress with his forearm.

“I know.” 

“Don’t be a tease.”

With the way that Kuroo has shifted his weight, there was nothing Kenma could do to change their position. He was totally at Kuroo’s mercy and it was torture. “What’s the rush?” Kuroo said, voice low. “Wanna make sure you have a good time tonight.” 

“I think getting to come sounds like a pretty good time.” Kuroo’s bare chest brushed against his stomach; the soft line of hair that started from between his pecs and went all the way down, disappearing into the hem of his boxers, tickled him. He had moved onto the other nipple now, briefly letting up on Kenma’s hips so he could tweak at the one he had just sucked to hardness. 

It was so much and  _ not enough _ all at once. 

Kenma was debating on how much effort it would take to switch their positions and take what he wanted when Kuroo gave up on whatever he was playing at. As his hand worked fast along Kenma’s cock, Kenma’s hands flew to Kuroo’s head, dark hair gripped between fingers. He pulled until Kuroo lifted his head. “A-ah--Kuro.” 

A short stream of expletives left his mouth before he could swallow them down and Kuroo’s eyes darkened as he stared. “Listen to you, Kenma. Jesus, baby,” he groaned. “You’re killing me.”

_ Baby. _

The name falling so easily off of Kuroo’s lips nearly short-circuited Kenma’s brain. With one word, he was reminded of the dangerous game he was playing. It was dumb, but now that he had heard how nice it sounded...Kenma blinked, looking back at Kuroo’s hooded gaze and pulled him closer to steal another kiss.

He wasn’t thinking about Kuroo with anyone else. Not now. Now was for them…

Just as the pressure in his stomach was building up, Kuroo’s hand urging him closer and closer to his climax, everything stopped. He bit at Kuroo’s lip, growling before he pulled back. “What the hell, Kuroo? I was so close.” The whine in his voice was nearly impossible to miss, but he didn’t care. 

“Not yet, baby.” 

That name again.  _ Shut up!  _ he wanted to scream.  _ Don’t stop!  _ his brain countered. 

Kuroo leaned to the side and rolled onto his back, pulling Kenma on top of him and totally shifting their position. “We can take our time.” He started fumbling with the buttons on his pants, so Kenma scooched up further on his chest to give him easier access. 

Getting the pants off of his long legs was a bit of a hassle, especially with Kenma sitting on him, but Kenma wasn’t feeling particularly forgiving. He made no move to make anything easier for the other man, especially not after all of the cruel teasing he’s had to endure.

Instead, Kenma took the chance to observe Kuroo. They’d seen each other nearly-naked several times. But never like  _ this _ . Never with the flush of arousal spreading down from his face to his chest. Never with such an obvious tent in his pants because beneath his boxers, Kuroo was sporting an erection, just as affected by all of this as Kenma was. 

He didn’t play volleyball anymore--his belly gone soft after years of being out of the sport, but Kenma didn’t mind. He traced the slight curve of his stomach with his eyes before reaching out with tentative fingers, touch featherlight, and following the same path.

Kuroo wasn’t all soft though; he spent many hours at the gym every week, his broad muscles and arms chiseled, corded muscle taut beneath the surface. Every motion he made caused a slight flex in his biceps, his pecs. 

Mouth suddenly dry, Kenma leaned down until his lips grazed Kuroo’s ear. “Please, Kuro. I wanna feel you.” He tried his best to get his voice pitched to the perfect breathy whine. It seemed to do the trick too, because as soon as Kuroo’s pants were deposited to the ground, Kuroo was sliding Kenma back down, rubbing his ass over his cock. 

“Now who’s the tease?”

“Don’t be mad that I’m winning at your game, Tetsurou,” Kenma said on a whine, words cracking on the name. He leaned forward, draping his body across Kuroo’s, and buried his face in his neck, lips beginning to press open-mouthed kisses against the skin there.

The change in position pushed their dicks more fully together; Kuroo gripped his hips, rocking them together in a steady rhythm. He lifted one hand to Kenma’s head and threaded his fingers through the loose locks, pulling a little, but not enough that he was moved from sucking hickies into the column of his neck. His mouth was nearly level with Kenma’s ear when he murmured, “I think I’m the one winning here, sweetheart.”

After a few seconds, Kuroo tapped Kenma’s side. “Hey, uh. Sit up for a sec?”

Kenma grumbled, but acquiesced in the end and let Kuroo reach to the side, long arm reaching to open one of the drawers beside his bed and dig around for something. Finding what he was searching for, he dropped a bottle of lube and a couple condoms unceremoniously on the bed. Without saying anything, Kuroo laid back against the bed again, attempting to pull Kenma into a kiss.

Before their lips could meet, Kenma couldn’t help the snort that left him from turning into a quiet string of giggles. He pulled the condoms closer, dangling it between their faces. “A little presumptuous, isn’t it?”

The blush on Kuroo’s face was cute and Kenma very much wanted to kiss it. But first things first.

“I’ve had my hand on your dick,” Kuroo sputtered, the rosy color of his cheeks deepening as he spoke. “It’s better to be  _ safe _ !” The crack in his voice was embarrassing, and Kenma shouldn’t find it endearing how just minutes before, Kuroo had him at his wits end with pleasure and now could hardly look him in the eye when confronted with the trajectory of their hook-up, but  _ god _ , he did.

Maybe he should be more embarrassed for  _ himself.  _ Shit.

Kenma dropped the condoms beside them on the bed, hands cupping the back of Kuroo’s head, thumbs resting near his ears, as he pulled him into a deep kiss. He nipped at Kuroo’s lips, groaning when their tongues met in a wet slide. “For the record, I  _ will _ be disappointed if you don’t fuck me tonight.”

He took pleasure in the way that Kuroo’s eyes widened, a groan leaving his mouth. “You’re gonna kill me, baby.” 

Kuroo began to slide down the bed slightly, moving Kenma with him as he went. “Wha--?”

“Take these off.” He tugged at the boxers that Kenma was still wearing. 

Nodding, Kenma did as he was told. As soon as they were off, he settled back on Kuroo’s lap, but the other man tsk’d and shook his head.

“Up here.” Kuroo patted his chest. “Wanna taste you.”

Helped by the way that Kuroo hoisted him up his body, Kenma had never moved so fast in his entire life. His cock was so close to Kuroo’s face, a drop of precum dripping to his chin, and he was hit with an odd hesitation. It didn’t make sense--like Kuroo said, his hands had been all over him for the last...however long they’ve been at it, but now, looking down at Kuroo, eyes soft at the edges and kiss-bitten lips parted just so, Kenma wasn’t sure he if he knew the full extent of the boundary they had smashed through tonight.

Sitting up higher on his knees, Kenma guided his dick towards Kuroo’s lips, sighing when his wet tongue slipped out to lap at the head.

They’d already gone so far tonight, and Kenma wasn’t sure if they (i.e. Kenma) were going to keep things normal after this. Would they be able to share casual touches again with the memory of Kuroo’s hands digging into his hips imprinted on his skin? Would they be able to spend nights wrapped up in each other doing nothing after busy nights when they now know exactly what it feels like to be wrapped up in sheets so intimately?

Kuroo leaned forward then, taking in as much of Kenma’s length as he could from the angle he was at and Kenma cried out at the wet heat.

If this was all Kenma was guaranteed then...he wasn’t going to waste it feeling worried. Wasn’t going to only go halfway now that they had rushed in full-throttle.

“Fuck, Tetsurou,” Kenma rocked his hips slightly and pushing his dick in deeper into Kuroo’s open mouth. He leaned forward, gripping the top of his headboard and giving a few slow thrusts, letting Kuroo get used to the weight on his tongue. 

After several seconds passed, Kenma’s hips moving in a languid rhythm, Kuroo groaned, making Kenma whimper at the sensation. His hands moved to Kenma’s lower body, one going to grip at Kenma’s ass while the other grabbed a hold of his hip and started moving him faster. It was hot and wet and unlike  _ anything _ Kenma had ever felt before. 

He was getting dangerously close to coming down Kuroo’s throat.

In the back of his mind, he thought he could hear the sound of a lid being snapped open, but it wasn’t until he felt the cold press of a lube-slicked finger against his entrance. He didn’t need to look down to know that Kuroo was wearing a satisfied grin, somehow, even with his mouth full of Kenma’s cock. 

A shiver wracked his body; the finger teased at his rim, circling it with a gentle touch as Kuroo continued to take him down again and again. It was all so much.  _ Too _ much, even, maybe. 

Kenma had his head tipped back, white-knuckle grip on the headboard, when the first knuckle of Kuroo's index finger slid inside. He dropped one hand to smack lightly at Kuroo’s face. “Gonna come,” Kenma managed to stutter out, gasping as Kuroo’s tongue swirled around his dick. When Kuroo only worked faster, Kenma had to pull away with a wet pop. 

Kuroo tried to bring him back, but Kenma resisted. The corners of Kuroo’s eyes were wet, the dark lines of eyeliner he must have put on before leaving the house earlier just starting to smudge. When he spoke, his voice was raspy. "You didn't have to stop. It's...really okay. Promise."

That caused a flush to rise to Kenma's cheeks. "...not yet." He hoped his hair was hiding the embarrassment he was sure was clear on his face. There wasn't much he could do about the hitch in his voice though, especially not with how Kuroo's finger was working deeper inside of him.

Kuroo didn't have to know that he was feeling sappy and maybe a little distraught and the reason Kenma didn't want to come yet was because he was thinking about how if this was his one chance at this then he wanted to come at the same time.

A stupid delusion of romance.

But...it was all he'd have, so fuck it.

Kuroo picked up on something in his tone though, because he let up. Removing his finger, he whispered, "Where do you want me?"

_ With me. Always.  _

The tell-tale sign of tears pricked at Kenma's eyes and he huffed quietly to himself. He swallowed roughly, but that only made the lump in his throat more apparent. Blinking up at the ceiling, Kenma refused to look at Kuroo. "Wherever."

"Hey."

_ Silence. _

_ “Hey _ ,” Kuroo repeated, lifting Kenma off of his lap and rolling so that he was leaning half over his body. “We can stop if you want.”

Kenma looked at him then, hoping his eyes at least looked somewhat normal. “ _ No _ . I want to do this.” He waved Kuroo’s worries off, praying to whatever god that would listen that his friend would get the hint that he didn’t want to talk about it but definitely still wanted to have sex. Kuroo’s head was tilted to the side, face screaming that he wanted to keep talking about this, but wouldn’t push Kenma if he didn’t want to.

“Okay,” Kuroo’s thumb stroked across his cheek, tucking his hair behind his ear as he pulled him in for a sweet kiss; the hot and heady atmosphere that had built between them earlier had simmered, now replaced with something slower but just as molten hot under Kenma’s skin. “Lay back. I’ve got you, angel.”

His whispered words ghosted over Kenma’s skin, and Kenma sighed, leaning back against the sheets, eyes wide on Kuroo above him. 

“Okay.” Kenma nodded.

As Kuroo’s lips traced his jaw, neck, shoulder, he whispered secret words into them; they were indiscernible, and the only reason Kenma knew he was doing it was because he could feel the shape of them being pressed into his skin.

His legs were pushed apart and Kuroo settled between them probing a newly-lubed finger against Kenma’s hole. Kenma sighed as it inched in deeper, Kuroo’s other hand pumping his cock back to full hardness. “You look so pretty like this, you know?”

A flash of heat struck through Kenma’s body, a swarm of butterflies flitting around in his stomach. “I’m not pretty,” he panted, hips rising and pushing back against the second finger opening him up.

Kuroo huffed a laugh and nuzzled his nose against Kenma. “You’re the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.” His teeth clacked together and he inhaled sharply. “This okay? I’m not hurting you, am I?”

Paired with Kuroo’s hands all over him, so much skin-on-skin, the compliments leave him feeling as if he was lit up from the inside out. He raised his arms to wrap around Kuroo’s shoulder, pulling him tighter against him and burying his face in his hair. “No. You’re not hurting me.” Kenma’s voice nearly cracked, but it didn’t. “Keep going. Let me touch you.” 

Kenma reached between them, hand finding Kuroo’s cock, still rock-hard despite the fact that he hadn’t been touched at all most of the night. “Jesus, Kuro. You’re…” his cock was heavy in Kenma’s hand and it twitched slightly as he stroked it. The sounds leaving Kuroo’s lips were hot, and Kenma hated how muffled they were. “Please, I’m good now. Fuck me.”

His request fell on deaf ears; Kuroo continued moaning into Kenma’s skin, working another finger inside of him and stretching him out. He crooked his fingers in a way that had Kenma seeing stars. Just when Kenma thought he couldn’t take anymore, Kuroo relented, pulling his fingers out and picking up one of the condoms. 

The rubber was rolled on and Kenma watched Kuroo hesitate, biting his lip. “C’mere.” He pulled Kuroo down, long arms falling on either side of Kenma’s head. “I’m ready.”

It felt like a lie, at least a little.

As Kuroo pushed inside of Kenma, filling him up, Kenma cried out in pleasure. The stretch stung a little, Kuroo’s cock much bigger than the fingers he had used to open him up, but it felt so good. 

“Shit, baby,” Kuroo groaned. He thrust in and out, motions careful. “This okay?”

Kenma nodded, eyes shut. “Yeah, a-ah. Feels good.” 

His right hand gripped the sheets, scrunching them between his fingers as Kuroo’s pace picked up. The sound of skin on skin and their labored breathing filled the room, Kuroo’s balls slapping against Kenma’s ass with every thrust.

The angle changed, Kuroo leaning forward more, pushing Kenma’s legs up into his chest a little before he wrapped them around his waist, heels digging into the small of Kuroo’s back. “Right, there. Holy--”

Their gazes caught each other--Kuroo was staring at Kenma with so much passion, eyes wide, drinking him in like he didn’t want to forget. It didn’t make sense, and it made Kenma think that his brain was making him see things now. Things that were decidedly not there. To combat this, he threw his arm over his eyes, whimpering after a particularly deep stroke on his prostate.

Tears pricked his eyes, but it had nothing to do with how good he felt.

“Don’t.” Kuroo pulled his arm away from his face, leaning close enough for their noses to brush. His fingers threaded through Kenma’s, pressing his hand down into the mattress beside Kenma’s head. “Let me see you, angel.”

Their lips met in a kiss, lips brushing gently against each other in a slow slide. Every time Kuroo tried to pull back, Kenma followed him, eventually holding the back of his head so he couldn’t move anymore. 

Kuroo’s thrusts remained quick, hips meeting Kenma’s in an erratic manner. The heat that had been ebbing and flowing in Kenma all night was coming to a head, his stomach tightening as he crawled closer and closer to his release. It took only a few more thrusts for Kenma to spill between them, Kuroo’s name slipping off of his lips in a sharp cry with Kuroo following shortly after. 

He wheezed as Kuroo collapsed on top of him. “Get off of me,” Kenma complained, but he didn’t mean it at all. He nearly whined when Kuroo rolled away, pulling his dick out in an unpleasant slide.

The other man didn't make it very far though; after tying the condom up and tossing it in the small trash can beside the bed, he flopped back down beside Kenma and flailed until Kenma was wrapped up in his octopus limbs.

Silence stretched between them while Kenma pretended to be put out by Kuroo's terrible listening skills and the way he squeezed closer, smearing the mess of white on his stomach. There was a quiet humming coming from Kuroo, and he was tapping a rhythm out on Kenma's bare shoulder, but that was the only sound he'd made in the past few minutes.

From here, ear pressed into Kuroo's chest, Kenma could hear the pounding of his heart, a responding echo of Kenma's own.

They probably needed to talk about what happened. What it meant. (Nothing.) 

But Kuroo didn't bring it up, so Kenma didn't either.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song that Kuroo is singing in this chapter (and also Chapter One!) is Once in a Lifetime by Landon Austin and I definitely recommend listening to it while you are reading that part <3
> 
> This is the final chapter! I hope you have all enjoyed this story!

When the feeling of dried cum on his stomach became too much, Kenma managed to get out from Kuroo's hold, ignoring his sleepy grumbling. He stood up, looking between the half-full water bottle by his desk and the door before deciding that the bathroom would be a much easier clean up. 

And he would be able to get away for a minute, the idea of space from the sex-stench wafting around his room sounding better with every step he took closer towards the door. 

It wasn't until he was standing in front of the big mirror in their bathroom, lit up by the yellow light of the light over his head, that he noticed he was completely naked still. Kenma gripped the edge of the counter and stared down at his hands as a sudden feeling of anxiety rushed over him.

_ What did we do? What did  _ I  _ do? God, I have his stupid spunk caked on me like...like…and he left stupid  _ marks _ all over my neck.  _

He groaned, reaching out to snag a washcloth from their cabinet and ran it under warm water with one hand while he rubbed at his eyes with the other. The mess on his stomach rubbed away easily, but there was nothing to be done about the light purple marks blossoming up along the side of his neck.

Truthfully, they weren't that bad; but people, mainly Akaashi and his annoying stares, would notice right away if he wasn't careful about hiding them, and Kenma didn't want to have to explain to anyone else about how he got drunk and  _ hooked up with Kuroo. His best friend who he was in love with but definitely wasn't in love with Kenma. _

Without thinking, he grabbed the first article of clothing he saw and pulled it down over his head, only realizing afterwards that the thick fabric now doing a great job covering the evidence of their tryst was one of Kuroo’s hoodies. 

_ Whatever _ , he thought.  _ It doesn’t matter. It’s fine. _

When he walked back into his room, Kuroo was on his side on top of the blankets and facing the doorway. At some point, he must have gotten up and walked to his own room because he was now wearing a loose black tee and some soft looking joggers. 

He blinked slowly at Kenma, eyes wide, before he smiled at Kenma. The sleepy grin made a wave of affection flutter just beneath the surface of Kenma’s skin. “That’s my sweater.” Kuroo’s voice was quiet and a little scratchy when he spoke. He stretched his arm out, wiggling his fingers in a lazy fashion. “C’mere.”

Kenma walked to his dresser and stepped into a pair of boxers. He squinted at Kuroo, hugging the sweater against his body. “You’re not taking this. Get your own.”

“Like I said: my sweater.” Shaking his head and snorting, Kuroo wiggled his fingers more emphatically. “Was talking about you though. Y’look cute.”

Kenma’s eyes traced the bob of Kuroo’s throat as the other man audibly gulped. “Get over here, you sneaky  _ thief _ ,” Kuroo teased, voice all bravado. 

“Fine.”

Padding over to the bed, Kenma sat down beside Kuroo while he dragged the blankets up from underneath him. He pulled Kenma down beside him on the bed with an arm around his waist. The weight of his arm was nice, but it didn’t do anything to calm the racing of Kenma’s heart. 

What was the protocol for after sleeping with your best friend? Was it normal to cuddle after? Stay the night with each other? 

His body felt stiff and he didn’t know what to do with his limbs. Kuroo and him had cuddled an uncountable amount of times over the years and it had never made Kenma feel like  _ this.  _ It was awful. Maybe he should just make an excuse...there’s a video game he’s been meaning to play, and he could maybe film it and get the video out soon if he focused on getting the footage edited. 

Yeah, that was a good idea.

“Stop it. For someone so quiet, your thoughts sure are loud, you know that?” Kuroo hummed into Kenma’s hair, arm tightening around his waist. The clock beside Kenma’s bed blinked at him, giant red numbers saying that it was  _ way _ too late to be panicking about this, lines had already been crossed and there was nothing to be done about it at two in the morning. “It’s late. Let’s just sleep. That okay?”

Kenma nodded, his eyes starting to droop. The last thing he remembered as he drifted off to sleep, or maybe it was a dream, was the warm press of lips against his hair and a whispered  _ sweet dreams, baby _ .

* * *

Kenma’s eyes shot open, breath catching in his throat. His head was pounding, and Kuroo was too hot behind him. It felt like he was suffocating and he peeled Kuroo’s hand away from his stomach. The other man snuffled but didn’t wake up when Kenma jerked out of his hold.

8:30 in the morning was too early to be awake, let alone suffer through a crisis, and Kenma was way too  _ hungover _ to deal with the racing thoughts and the swirling in his stomach. 

Kuroo looked soft right now, his lanky body curled up around the spot that Kenma had just left and red lines pressed into his cheek where he must have had a pillow smushed against it for at least part of the night. His hair was messy, black locks sticking up in every direction and Kenma wanted to go over there and do something about it--either shuffle his fingers through it and make it worse, or smooth it down until it looks like it usually does, he wasn’t really sure what. 

His lips were parted, quiet snores leaving his open mouth and there was a little bit of drool on his chin. It should be gross. Unappealing. 

And it kind of  _ was _ , but…

All Kenma could think about was how cute Kuroo was, and how nice it felt to have his soft lips and big, calloused hands all over his body. The ache in his ass as he stepped back too quickly reminded him of what it felt like to be  _ filled with his stupid, amazing dick. _

His mouth dried up.

Kenma now knew what it felt like to have everything he’d ever wanted, everything that he had buried away, deep in the recesses of his mind, and he would never get to have it again. Never for real.

All he’d have was one drunken night. 

Turning around on his heels, Kenma grabbed the backpack that was leaned against the leg of his computer desk and started hastily shoving things in it--some clothes, his laptop and switch, and headphones. He nearly forgot to put on pants, but managed to slip his legs into sweats, not realizing that it was the pair with the dumb cat patch Kuroo had attached until he was already out the door.

When he left, he didn’t look back, too afraid that he’d give in to the whisper in the back of his mind telling him to crawl back into bed and soak up what he could get before it was gone.

* * *

It was dumb, and exactly  _ opposite _ of being in his best interest, but at 9:30, Kenma was knocking on the door to Akaashi and Bokuto’s place. Akaashi opened the door looking perfectly put together, and when he stepped aside to let Kenma through, the house was pristine. No sign of the party last night whatsoever. 

Just what Kenma needed.

“Hello, Kenma.” Akaashi walked further into the house towards the kitchen and Kenma followed silently, depositing his bag by the back of the couch as they passed. “Not that you aren’t welcome here, but just what are you doing here?”

Kenma slid into one of the wooden booth-like benches nestled into the small nook in the kitchen. Immediately, he crossed his arms on the table in front of him and buried his face in them. He groaned, head throbbing. Despite the still early hour, the commute had been hectic, too many people, and every little bump and sway had Kenma’s stomach turning even worse than when he first woke up.

The sun was too bright here, shining in through the window.  _ Normally _ , he was sure that this was a beautiful place to start your mornings, tucked away with ample room to spread your legs across the bench and play on your phone. But right now, the idyllic setting and bright light shining through despite his best efforts to shield his eyes was just a reminder of how much Akaashi and Bokuto had their shit together and here he was running away from Kuroo the morning after they hooked up. 

A loud snore cut Kenma's thoughts off, and when he lifted his head, he saw Akaashi stepping around Bokuto who looked to be spread out on the floor behind the kitchen island, only the top of his head and an arm peeking out from the edge. Kenma raised one eyebrow. “What’s wrong with Bokuto?”

“He wouldn’t come to bed last night.” Akaashi paused to take a sip of tea from the dainty white cup in his hand. “Must have passed out out here. Would you like some tea, Kenma-san?”

Kenma groaned and dropped his head back into his arms, cheek smooshed against his sleeve. “No. I’ll take some of that vodka though,” he said dismally, tipping his head in Bokuto’s general. Bokuto snored loudly again, shifting and nearly ramming his head into the island.

“Ah.” Sitting down across from him, Akaashi stared at Kenma, face passive. “So. You never told me why you showed up here out of the blue. It doesn’t even look like you brushed your hair.” He paused again, taking another, longer sip of his drink before setting in down carefully to the side. Eyes locked on Kenma, he set his head in his hand. “Did something happen with Kuroo-san last night?”

“Kuroo and I hooked up last night.”

Akaashi, the smug bastard, didn’t even bother to look surprised. 

“Mm. You two  _ were _ looking pretty mussed up before you left last night. That’s good though, isn’t it? Bokuto will be happy to know his plan worked.”

“His  _ what _ ?”

Waving his hand as if dismissing the question, Akaashi plowed on. “You have feelings for him, Kenma. This seems like all good news. I don’t understand why you are  _ here _ instead of soaking up all the post-hook-up glory.”

Kenma stayed silent, pulling his phone out and opening one of his games. He could feel Akaashi’s stare burning a hole into his head, but he ignored it. 

He also ignored the fact that there were zero notifications from Kuroo on his phone. It didn’t  _ matter _ . It’s what he expected. It was fine. 

“Kenma. Tell me you didn’t rush over here without talking to Kuroo first.”

“Would it make you feel better if I lied?”

“It would make me feel better if you told me why you thought that _running away_ _after hooking up with the guy you’ve been in love with for years_ was the better option than sticking around and maybe getting a second round plus a relationship upgrade.”

Swallowing down around the lump beginning to form in his throat, Kenma bit out, jaw tense, “There would have been no  _ ‘relationship upgrade’ _ ,” he emphasized those words with air quotes as he said them, “because Kuroo doesn’t feel that way about me.”

“You can’t be serious right now.” Akaashi stood up from his seat and leaned one knee onto the bench Kenma was slouched in, stealing the phone from his hands. As he did that, it vibrated, a text coming through, and Kenma scrambled to grab it back from him. His attempts were fruitless though, and Akaashi just looked at him with a raised eyebrow. “Who is Tsuji Minato?”

“What?”

Akaashi flashed the phone in Kenma’s face before turning it back towards himself. “They just texted you.”

Groaning, Kenma snatched his phone back from Akaashi, who gave it up much more easily this time. “A guy from class. He’s kind of annoying.”

“And you gave him your number?” Pulling his cup of tea across the table, Akaashi sat on his bottom and crossed his legs, turning towards Kenma. With his head leaned against the back of the bench, he took a quiet sip from his cup.

“Group project,” Kenma said with a grimace.

The whole thing had been annoying. They hadn’t needed to interact too much for it yet, both working on their own individual research, but the time for collaboration was getting closer, unfortunately. Tsuji had been a pain the entire semester, and when Kenma found out they were partners he was less than thrilled, but so far it hadn’t been  _ too  _ bad.

>>>Tsuji Minato: hey wanna meet up

>>>Tsuji Minato: got a question about our project

“Mm. Sorry for your luck. Back to my original point--you should talk to Kuroo.”

Kenma’s grimace deepened, face twisting at the thought of any conversation with Kuroo at the moment. His stomach somersaulted uncomfortably and he didn’t know if it was the hangover or the anticipation of what he knew was inevitable. “I’m not going to talk to him. Not now.”

“You’re being a  _ baby _ , Kenma.” Akaashi nudged him with one of his knees. “Are you just never going to talk to your best friend again because you guys hooked up? You two would both be insufferable.”

As awful as Tsuji was, talking about their project would probably be a hundred times better than having this conversation with Akaashi; his face said that he knew too much and it was hard to ignore him when his stare bored through Kenma, reminding him of just how stupid he was being about this. 

<<< me: sure. I can be at that cafe on campus in an hour

>>>Tsuji Minato: cool ;) 

“I’m not being a baby. Obviously I’m going to talk to Kuroo. We live together. I just...I’m busy. Lots of stuff to do today. Unfortunately, awkward post-hook up conversations are at the very bottom of my list.” Kenma made to get up but Akaashi was in his way. “Can you move, please? I have to head out to campus.”

“As long as you promise that you are going to talk to your best friend.” He moved out of Kenma’s way, moving back towards the counter where Bokuto was shifting up on his arms, a large yawn cracking his lips. “Maybe mention to him the fact that you have feelings for him and would be interested in continuing what happened last night. Regularly. Dates too.” 

“I’ll take your words into consideration," Kenma said sarcastically. "Thanks.”

* * *

Standing outside in the hallway, Kenma stared down the dark wood of their apartment door. He couldn’t hear anything inside from out here, but Kuroo usually stayed home the day after a long night out.  _ Usually _ , the two of them would camp out in the living room, bringing all of their collective blankets to make a nest of sorts on the ground and do anything that didn’t require moving their bodies all that much.

Sometimes Kuroo would pull out one, or several, of his instruments and show Kenma different things he’d been working on. Sometimes, he just played whatever came to mind though, and it never ceased to amaze him just how  _ talented _ Kuroo was.

Those were Kenma’s favorite times, honestly. Even if he pretended to only be half-paying attention, eyes glued to his screen, his entire focus was on the melodies being played for him, enraptured. 

But Kenma had taken off like a dumbass that morning. Taken off and disappeared for the entire day. 

Kuroo had texted him, eventually. A simple  _ are you okay?  _ text at around 12. Kenma hadn’t even replied right away, fingers too frozen with anxiety which was stupid because it was  _ Kuroo.  _ It took him twenty minutes to reply.  _ Yeah. Forgot I had something to do on campus. Be home soon. _

And Kenma had  _ meant _ to get home soon. Akaashi was right...they needed to talk. So what if Kuroo didn’t feel the same? They had weathered so much over the years. Kuroo wasn’t the type to make things weird over unrequited feelings. He had stayed friendly with lots of people who he had let down.

It was going to be  _ fine _ .

But no matter how many times he told himself that, it didn’t quell the sick feeling in his stomach or the sharp pain in his chest whenever he thought about it.

Unfortunately, those plans went out the window when  _ Tsuji fucking Minato _ informed Kenma that he had been researching the entirely  _ wrong subject for their project _ .

So, what had started out as a simple avoidance strategy, ended up being a major pain in his ass. He had to spend several hours holed up in the library with Tsuji because as it turned out they were way behind and Kenma wasn’t going to take the fall for his partner not being smart enough to read the correct material, but he certainly wasn’t going to let him get away with doing  _ nothing _ either.

The entire time, Tsuji kept making comments about how Kenma was  _ kind of pretty for a dude _ and asking questions like  _ hey, man. Be honest, am I your type?  _ or  _ do you think you’d ever wanna go on a date with me? Hypothetical, of course haha. _

It didn’t matter how much Kenma ignored him, or told him that he was definitely not interested. It didn’t matter that Kenma had snatched his phone away after the 10th time he snapped a picture with his tongue out or took a video of him licking his lips and winking. The guy would not  _ stop _ . But, eventually, after barking at the guy enough and sending icy glares, he got his act together and actually  _ helped.  _

And now, it was almost 7 o’clock at night and Kenma was about to have the most difficult conversation of his entire life and he wasn’t  _ ready _ .

He debated turning around and heading to Hinata’s for the night, but he could already  _ feel _ Akaashi’s wrath and he has already had a hellish day.

Kenma shifted from side to side, fingers flexing around the straps of his backpack a few times, and pushed through the door.

All of the lights were off and the house was quiet. Kenma toed his shoes off, lining them up neatly along the wall before stepping further into the living room. From here, he could see there was a takeout bag sitting on the kotatsu, and one of Kuroo's guitars was leaning up against the couch.

He didn't call out for Kuroo yet, too afraid to actually summon him. 

_ Maybe he's already in bed. _

When he reached the hallway, Kenma noticed light streaming from under Kuroo's door and the sound of murmured voices. 

_ Not asleep. _

Still not ready to face Kuroo, Kenma slipped inside his room, making as little noise as possible. He sat down heavily on his bed and sighed.  _ This is the worst _ . 

He changed into different clothes, the ones he had put on that morning smelling too much like the cloying cologne that Tsuji had doused himself in before leaving the house. By the time he had changed, ran a brush through his hair for the first time that day, replied to some of the people on his social media accounts, and checked in with all of his villagers on Animal Crossing, Kenma knew it was time to face the music.

_ Shit. _

Stepping foot in the hall, Kenma was greeted with a startled shout.

“When did you--”

“About last night--”

“Sorry--”

They both started speaking at the same time.

There were crumbs across the collar of the raggedy shirt Kuroo was wearing, and there was a smear of what looked to be red bean paste at the corner of his lip. His eyes were also bloodshot and puffy, as if he’d been rubbing at them all day.

“Kuro, are you okay?” Kenma took a step closer, but Kuroo took a small step back, heel bumping into his closed door as he let out an awkward laugh.

“Me? Yeah! Of course.” He smiled, but there was something off about it, and he wasn’t really meeting Kenma’s gaze, eyes staring off somewhere behind Kenma’s shoulder. “Bokuto made me watch this dumb kid’s movie with him and we both got kind of teary-eyed. The power of love is moving. And stuff.”

Kenma squinted, but didn’t have the energy to push it. “Right.”

“So where have you been off to today?” Kuroo pushed away from his door and slid past Kenma without touching him. Kenma didn’t like it. “I, uh.” He cleared his throat, talking from the kitchen now. “You weren’t around when I got up today. I was worried about you, you know!”

Guilt clenched at Kenma’s stomach.  _ Akaashi was right. I handled this all wrong. This is so much worse. _

“I forgot something at Akaashi and Bokuto’s last night and I needed...to get it.” Even to his own ears, the excuse fell flat. “Then Tsuji texted me and needed to meet up. And...now I’m home.”

It was silent save for the rustling of whatever Kuroo was doing in the kitchen for several minutes. Kenma took a deep breath and walked towards the kitchen himself. He caught a brief glimpse of Kuroo’s shoulders, tensed, before the man turned around and offered Kenma a smirk. “Tsuji? Who's that? I’ve never heard that name before.”

Kenma felt like he was choking. Kuroo’s face was all wrong. Something wasn’t  _ right _ .  _ He fucked up so bad.  _ “Ah. Guy from class. Not important.” He took a deep breath and stepped towards Kuroo, tugging him into a hug, which Kuroo thankfully returned after a few seconds, arms falling to Kenma’s waist. 

“Hey, I wanted to talk about last night,” Kenma buried his face in Kuroo’s chest, words probably come out muffled and hard to understand. “I--”

Kuroo’s shirt smelled like greasy takeout and deodorant, and he could hear it when he swallowed harshly. “Hey, don’t worry about it. It’s totally cool. We don’t need to talk about it. It’s fine.” 

Before Kenma had a chance to say anything else, Kuroo stepped away. “I forgot I needed to call my mom. Think about what you want for dinner and I’ll make it when I get off the phone with her.”

The pit in Kenma’s stomach opened up and he couldn’t stop the loop in his head that told him that he had messed up very,  _ very _ badly and he didn’t know what he was going to do to fix it. 

He couldn’t stomach the thought of food; his body was exhausted and his head was pounding, jaw hurting from the way it was clenched. Picking up the menu for one of their most frequented restaurants, Kenma called in an order for both of their favorite foods, adding on a bunch of vegetables for Kuroo and some soft donuts for himself. 

They would figure this out.  _ Kenma would figure this out _ .

When Kuroo came out of his room, lured by the savory fragrance of soup and vegetables, and his favorite, sanma, it looked like he had splashed his face with cold water; his eyes were droopy, and when he spoke, his voice came out scratchy, but he sat next to Kenma leaving next to no room between them, joking around like nothing was wrong. 

Kenma wouldn’t push. He couldn’t. Maybe things were fine.

They had to be.

* * *

The following week passed without too much issue.

Kuroo was his usual, annoying self. Maybe a little more withdrawn, maybe spending a little more time on the phone with his mom, or hanging out with Bokuto at his place, than Before, but he still made time for Kenma. They still hung out most when they could, and Kuroo sat with him in Kenma’s room, chattering on about school and his music while Kenma did his own thing.

It was hard not to notice how Kuroo wasn’t  _ touching _ him as much though. He was careful to step around Kenma when they were forced into tight spaces together, didn’t casually throw his legs over Kenma’s, or pull Kenma’s into his lap, while they watched TV. Kuroo hadn’t whined dramatically about needing cuddles all week, hadn’t pulled Kenma back against him, even if the opportunity arose.

So.

Maybe things were kind of weird.

But it would pass. Because it had to.

Akaashi texted occasionally, asking Kenma if he had sorted their stuff out.  _ Yeah _ , he said every time.  _ Things are fine. Stop it. _

By the time the end of the week came, Kenma was grumpy, his sleep schedule even more wrecked than usual because his brain wouldn’t shut off (and Kuroo hadn’t reminded him to take naps if he needed them). 

He was in the process of downing his second energy drink of the hour when he got a text from Tsuji.

>>>Tsuji Minato: hey what are you doing

<<<me: why?

>>>Tsuji Minato: i need help with our project

<<<me: did you make sure you’re working on the right thing this time?

>>>Tsuji Minato: aha yeah ;) 

>>>Tsuji Minato: come on its important

>>>Tsuji Minato: i cant fail kenma please

<<<me: fine but i don’t have a lot of time so it’s gonna have to be quick

>>>Tsuji Minato: cool cool ;) here’s the address to meet me at

Kenma truthfully didn’t have anything planned for the night other than a stop at the convenience store down the road and maybe a video chat with Shouyou, but he was not committing to another several hours with that idiot. He felt like wallowing, and he couldn’t quite explain it except it felt like he had lost something even though things were  _ arguably the same _ . Kuroo had left a little bit ago, knocking on the doorframe to Kenma’s room to let him know that he had some things he had to take care of, but he’d be back later that night.

<<<me: Kuro, Tsuji sent an SOS so i have to head out for a little bit. I’ll be back later

A reply didn’t come right away. Kenma set about packing his stuff up for the project, stuffing his books and laptop in his backpack. He sniffed his sweater and noticed that he kind of smelled, so he changed into a clean shirt, shucking off his stained sweats while he was at it. 

He felt marginally better when he was in a clean pair of jeans, despite the fact that they were the tight skinny jeans he usually tried to avoid; by the time he had pulled his hair up into a half-pony-tail, there was a notification blinking back at him.

>>>Rooster Head: You think you’ll be out long?

>>>Rooster Head: I had plans tonight, but seems like they fell through so 

>>>Rooster Head: I’ll just be at home whenever you get home

<<<me: yeah i’ll be home tonight

And with that, Kenma headed out towards the station, following directions to the address Tsuji sent him.

* * *

When Kenma arrived at the house, he wasn’t expected to show up to a full-blown party, and he already had his phone pulled up to tell Tsuji exactly how much of an ass he was when a cloud of disgusting cologne hit his nose. An arm wrapped around his shoulder, jostling him, and when he looked up, he was staring directly into the smirking face of the person of his ire: Tsuji Minato.

“Hey there, cutie,” he slurred, leaning in close to leer at Kenma. His breath stunk of alcohol, and Kenma cringed out of his hold.

“What is your  _ problem _ ?” The annoyance was clear in his voice, Kenma made sure of it, but Tsuji was undeterred. 

“C’mon.” Tsuji plucked at Kenma’s hair, looping his arm around him again and pulling him inside towards the party. “Ya look cute like this, by the way.”

It was loud inside, and there were too many people. Someone came dangerously close to spilling their drink on Kenma the second he walked in the door. “My problem,” the words were shouted near his ear, “is that you never wanna hang out with me outside of that project. What’s up with that?”

Kenma elbowed at him. “So you did notice. Good. If you don’t  _ actually _ need help with our stuff, I’m gonna take off. Thanks for wasting my time.”

“You’re no fun, Kenma. Why don’t you stick around for a little while? Relax!”

Shoving back through the crowd--god, how many people were  _ here _ ?--Kenma was almost to the door when Tsuji gripped his wrist in his hand and tugged a little. “ _ Wait _ , okay, I do actually need help,” he slurred. “But I also wanted to hang out! I really like you.”

The words made him wrinkle his nose. "You don't  _ know _ me." He took his hand back gingerly. “I’m in love with someone else.” Kenma almost tacked on an apology, but found he didn’t mean it. Tsuji sucked. Even if he wasn’t in love with Kuroo, he definitely wouldn’t be interested in...any of this.

Tsuji pouted, annoying demeanor melting away for half a second before he ruined it by speaking. “Well, can I at least get a goodbye kiss?”

Kenma pulled his phone out of his pocket, hiking his backpack higher up on his shoulder as he turned around. There was a missed text from Kuroo.  _ ETA? I actually need to talk to you. _

_ That’s not ominous at all. _ “Not a chance,” he said out loud, shaking his head and heading back towards the station. He should have known that this whole endeavor would be a shitshow. Now he’s going to have to wait out in the cold for the next train and there were so many episodes of the new show he had started he could have watched.

What a  _ waste _ .

The only saving grace, it would seem, was that he was avoiding a conversation he definitely didn’t want to be having with Kuroo. 

Silver linings, or whatever bullshit people spouted.

_ Okay _ , Kenma finally texted back.  _ Be there in about 30 minutes I think. _

There was a small part of Kenma’s brain that wished he had taken the drink offered to him. Or at least a shot or  _ something _ . It seemed pretty obvious to him what Kuroo needed to talk to Kenma about, and Kenma really didn’t think he could handle that conversation sober.

Drunk Kenma got him into this whole mess in the first place, so maybe drinking was ill-advised.

Pulling his phone out, Kenma avoided the thread of messages from Kuroo and tapped away at a fighter game that had him stuck on the same level all week.

By the time the train pulled up to the station closest to his and Kuroo’s home, he was no less calm than when he had first got the text from Kuroo, but he trudged up the stairs anyway, feeling like he was walking to his doom.

* * *

The first thing that Kenma noticed when he got inside was the amazing smell wafting into the hallway. It smelled like tonkatsu and dumplings and Kenma’s mouth watered. 

Kuroo was wearing a hole in the floor, pacing back and forth in a short path. Every two or three steps, he turned back around just to repeat over and over again. He was dressed up, a pristine white button-up shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, worn under a deep maroon waistcoat. The tight, black pants he was wearing only further accentuated the length of his legs. 

Not for the first time, Kenma couldn’t help but be annoyed by Kuroo’s good looks. A smile tugged at his lips when he noticed the product in his hair, but it had been displaced by something, likely his fingers. Whatever attempt Kuroo made at taming his hair was ruined and he was just so...cute.

Kenma’s cheeks flushed, tracing up and down Kuroo’s body. 

Very, very  _ cute _ .

The thought that Kenma was maybe interrupting on something crossed his mind. This was all so romantic. Was Kuroo expecting someone over for a date? He  _ had _ mentioned that his plans had fallen through earlier. Maybe they were back on. Kuroo would have said something about needing the apartment for the night, wouldn’t he?

He hadn’t been as forthcoming with information as usual over the last week, though. He was spending more time alone or on the phone. Kenma had  _ assumed _ it was his mom, or Bokuto, or even  _ Yaku _ , because they talked sometimes. But...maybe it was someone else? 

Kenma’s mind was going haywire, thoughts running all over the place. It felt like he was stuck to the ground, frozen, or stuck in slow-sinking mud. Was it this about Susumu? That name hadn’t been mentioned in a long time, but maybe Kuroo and her were trying things out again (Kenma was being irrational. Kuroo  _ said _ that they weren’t a good match, he wasn’t interested.)

Or it could be someone else entirely. 

A sick feeling of dread filled Kenma’s stomach and he didn’t know what to do. Sticking it out at the partying seemed like a much better time, all of a sudden, when faced with the impending arrival of whoever all of this romantic extravagance was for. 

Kenma wasn’t the type to care for that stuff much, but looking at the tablecloth that had been set over the kotatsu, the small bouquet of flowers sitting at the top, between two perfectly set stacks of dinnerware, and the plush blankets and pillows that had been set up on the floor and couch, he couldn’t help but wish it were all for him.

It was too much. Kenma probably read the text wrong, or he got the time wrong, or  _ something _ , but Kenma wasn’t meant to be here right now.

He turned around, and in his haste, he bumped the side table by the entrance to the hall, causing the bowl with their keys and loose change to tumble to the ground with a loud crash. 

That got Kuroo’s attention immediately, and he looked towards Kenma, head snapping up. “Kenma,” Kuroo breathed out. “You’re here.” It looked like he took a deep breath, steadying himself, before he started walking towards Kenma.

“Yeah, sorry. I’ll--” Kuroo’s warm hand found Kenma’s forearm, and he smiled. There was a nervous twitch to it, but his eyes were soft, and his hair looked so silly, swept to the side like that that Kenma was reaching out before his head caught up with his arm. Brushing the bangs back over his face slightly, Kuroo’s cheeks dusted with pink and he huffed out a quiet laugh.

“Sorry,” Kenma apologized again. His heart was pounding in his chest and he didn’t want to go. He hoped whoever got to have  _ this _ , whoever had found themselves the object of Kuroo’s affections, appreciated it.

“I never know what to do with my stupid hair.” Kuroo’s hand was still on Kenma, and he was pulling him closer towards the couch. “Sorry to, ah, spring this on you.” He glanced at Kenma before his eyes darted away, staring at the weird stain on the carpet neither of them would lay claim to.

He allowed himself to be tugged to the couch where they sat turned towards each other, knees bumping. Kuroo fiddled his fingers in his lap, eyes refusing to meet Kenma’s. 

Ducking his head, Kenma’s hair fell from where it had been tucked behind his ears to curtain over his face. It would be dumb to cry over this, but his brain didn’t seem to be getting the memo as he could feel a painful lump forming in his throat every time he swallowed, and the telltale pricking at his eyes. “Hey, it’s fine. I can go. Don’t worry about it.”

“Wait--why would you leave? Kenma, I,” Kuroo took a deep breath, shoulders rising and falling with it. His eyes met Kenma’s as he clasped their hands together. “If you want to leave, that’s fine. Just…”

He reached beside him, pulling his guitar into his lap and looking at Kenma. Kuroo strummed at the strings, a rhythm that Kenma has recognized as the one he plays when he has a lot on his mind and just needs to do something with his hands. “Just let me talk first, okay? There’s something that I’ve been thinking about a lot, and I need to tell you.”

Kenma nodded, unable to find his voice around the lump in his throat. This wasn’t good. Kuroo was going to tell him that they had gone too far, had ruined their friendship and Kenma had messed up by not sticking around and--

He was about to stand up, run away again, when the soft strumming stopped him in his tracks. It was the same song that Kuroo had played for him, all that time ago. The one after he and Susumu had broken up. It was a little different this time, a little more refined and practiced. Kuroo’s voice was shaky, but his eyes were glued to Kenma as he sang out every note.

> _...you must be my once in a lifetime_ _  
> __So before the storm has passed_ _  
> __I just wanna ask_ _  
> ___Can we make this moment last?

The song was beautiful, and sang of a deep and enduring love, longing and  _ uncertainty _ . It was so many things, and Kenma was overcome with emotion. It was so  _ raw _ , and he didn’t know what to do with it. The shake of Kuroo’s fingers was almost imperceptible, but Kenma saw; he kept playing though, eyes searching Kenma’s face for something, seemingly flitting around every inch of it before settling back on his eyes.

Kenma’s mouth dropped open in a small  _ o _ , heart fluttering wildly in his chest. It felt like something was ballooning inside of him. Maybe it was hope. He was too afraid to admit that though. The song finished, the final note hanging in the air and filling the silence between them.

“Tetsurou?”

“That song was never for Susumu, Kenma,” Kuroo started with, throwing Kenma for a loop before he remembered their conversation the first time he had played it for him. “It was always about you.  _ For  _ you.”

Even though he couldn’t believe what he was hearing, the hope inside Kenma ballooned even more; he inhaled shortly, tilting his head. “What do you mean?” Kenma felt like he was walking a tightrope--at one end of this was everything he’d wanted and thought he could never have, but one misstep might send him tumbling down to his worst nightmare. 

Kuroo set his guitar aside, slipping down to his knees in front of Kenma as he took his hand. He bit his lip, rolling it between his teeth in anxious movements. The next moment, he brought Kenma’s hand up to his mouth and pressed a kiss into the back of it. “I mean that I am  _ so _ in love with you, Kenma. I have been in love with you for so long that I don’t even remember when it happened.”

“And I’m sorry if that freaks you out. I was going to tell you sooner. I was going to tell you when Susumu and I broke up because I realized that I was missing  _ you _ more than I wanted to be around her.” Kuroo stared at Kenma, golden eyes determined, but sad. “I was going to tell you, but every single time, I chickened out! And  _ then _ ...then you said you had a crush and I  _ couldn't _ .

“Bokuto tried to tell me, that night at the party, that I just needed to tell you. That it would be okay if I did, but I was so scared.” A short, nervous laugh bubbled out of Kuroo, cracking at the end. “And then you dragged my drunk ass inside that closet and you--you  _ kissed  _ me.”

His words were picking up speed, jumbling together. Kenma tried to cut in, but his thoughts were still trying to play catch up. It felt like a huge delay between the words hitting his ears and his brain actually  _ processing _ them.

“There was a part of me that told me not to fall into it. Another part was screaming at me to take what I could get and run with it, you know? If it was all I’d get then I shouldn’t waste it.” Kenma slid down next to him, knees hitting the pile of fluffy blankets spread beneath them. He leaned in to Kuroo, trying to get as close as possible as if that might mean he wouldn’t miss a single word.

Kuroo smiled and Kenma’s heart leapt up to his throat. He wanted to kiss it so bad. He was so  _ in love _ . “And shit, Kenma. That might have been the dumbest, most magical night of my life so far.” A wet sound garbled out of his mouth and Kuroo’s voice cracked when he spoke. “But then you were  _ gone _ when I woke up and it was like ‘ _ duh, it was never anything more for him. Just a drunken hook-up. _ ’ and I tried to be okay with that and it  _ hurt _ .”

“Kuro, please,” Kenma placed his hand on Kuroo’s cheek, prompting him to look at him. His eyes flicked over his eyes, his lips and he tried for a small smile. Something reassuring. “It wasn’t--”

“I’m almost done,” Kuroo pleaded quietly. “Let me finish?”

Kenma nodded, eyes wide. 

“It hurt, and I love you so much, Kenma. I know you like someone else, but do you think we could maybe give it a real shot? You’re everything I’ve ever wanted. Everything I know about love is because of you and if I don’t have to  _ lose _ that. If I can keep that forever? Kenma...nothing could--”

Rushing the rest of the way forward, Kenma locked lips with Kuroo. He cradled his head between his hands in a gentle grip. It took a few seconds for Kuroo to respond, but then their lips moved against each other in a slow push and pull.

Something wet brushed against Kenma’s thumb where it rested just beneath Kuroo’s eyes, but when he attempted to pull away, Kuroo held him close, shaking his head. 

The feeling of a fluffy pillow, one of the fuzzy ones that Kuroo insisted they buy, brushed against Kenma’s ears as he was pushed to lay on his back. Hovering just above him, Kuroo straddled one of Kenma’s legs; the only sound in the room was the rustle of fabric and their shallow breathing. Kenma pressed a palm against Kuroo’s chest until their kiss broke, but Kuroo stayed close, eyes shut.

“You,” Kenma started. “You are such an idiot.”

Kuroo’s eyes snapped open, mouth looking like a fish as he attempted to find words. There was a single tear track drying on his cheek and his eyelashes were dark and starting to clump together. He looked gorgeous.

“I’m in love with you too.  _ You _ are the crush I was talking about. It was always  _ you _ .”

“Me?”

“Yes,” Kenma said, laughter bubbling up and out of his mouth, a quiet giggle that he couldn’t stop. He kissed Kuroo again, just a small peck this time, and nuzzled their noses together. “I can’t believe this.”

Kuroo was staring at Kenma, wide-eyed, and he joined in Kenma’s giggling, flopping down on top of him and forcing all the air out of his chest in a giant huff. “ _ All this time. We could have been doing  _ this _. What is wrong with us? _ ”

Kenma traced random patterns on Kuroo's back as he thought. Both of their hearts were racing, Kenma could feel them beating against each other where their chests were pressed together. 

The room was quiet as they lay there, Kuroo still collapsed against Kenma. Kenma wasn't sure how long had passed, but when his stomach growled, a long, loud sound breaking the silence of the room, Kuroo sat up and glared down at him, shaking his head.

"You're lucky I'm around to make sure you eat," he said climbing to his feet and stepping up to the kitchen doorway. Leaning around into the room, he grabbed a bag of takeout and brought it back to Kenma, plating a bit of everything for them. "Let's dig in."

_ "No _ . Don't just push the veggies around," Kuroo complained when Kenma did just that.

Pressing close to Kuroo's side, worming his way under his arm, Kenma took a big bite of food, still carefully avoiding anything that looked like a vegetable. He let out a secret smile at the resigned sigh it pulled from Kuroo.

Even though they had clearly taken the long way, Kenma couldn't help but feel that he was pretty lucky, all things considered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic became so much more than I had originally planned, but I loved every second of working on it! It was so fun to be able to create something for someone else like this and I'm happy to have been able to participate in the exchange <3 Thank you so much for reading! I'd love to hear your thoughts in the comments afjdslkf they always brighten up my day!
> 
> I'm super active on twitter @_bakuho_ so go ahead and follow me over there if you would like to scream at me about kuroken or literally anything else probably <3 <3 <3

**Author's Note:**

> I'd love to hear your thoughts in the comments!
> 
> Thank you so much for reading <3


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